


A Dementor's Kiss

by parttimestoryteller



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: AU, Adventure, Crossover, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Hogwarts, KickTheStickz - Freeform, M/M, Magic, Phan - Freeform, Phanfiction, YouTubers - Freeform, phanfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-02-04 16:12:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 94,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1785274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parttimestoryteller/pseuds/parttimestoryteller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phan, kickthestickz and multiple youtubers at hogwarts! Dan Howell, a shy third year slytherin, is befriended by fifth year hufflepuff Phil Lester. Dan is quiet and alone, with little faith in his abilities, but with the comfortable and kind-hearted Phil he will learn to flourish in the wizarding world. This is a chaptered story with each chapter a oneshot in its own right.<br/>No major triggers or warnings</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Owl Post

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Hogwarts AU rather than a Harry Potter AU. The Hogwarts specific characters (teachers, ghosts etc) feature, but the main characters don't play important roles bar the odd cameo. It takes place at the same time as the HP books (Phil is the year above Harry and Co) but again only things that affect Hogwarts (like the Triwizard Tournament) effect the story. Updates will be sporadic as I write this mostly to cheer myself up when I'm feeling down as it's a total guilty pleasure :P please let me know what you think!
> 
> It’s perfectly okay to just dip in and out and pick a chapter you like the sound of, i’ve made them all individual stories with very little plot between them so like it’s more like a series of oneshots that all take place along one hogwarts phan timeline so you’re not missing much by only reading a couple :)
> 
> Boy meets boy. While Phil is surrounded by friendship, Dan sits alone.

It was two in the morning and Phil was, once again, in the library – engrossed in a book about Caribbean mer-people. Some of his classmates thought his dreamy state was brought on by the dirigible plums he kept on his windowsill, but in reality sleep deprivation played the biggest part. He glanced guiltily up at the hourglass on the wall.

He had been thrown out of the library two hours ago by Madam Prince (who ushered him angrily off to bed); but Phil had long since mastered the art of tiptoeing back in after hours, and his housemates liked him well enough not to spill on him. The library was peaceful at night. Some of the books snored gently, the dry air fluttering their pages. If he listened carefully he could hear the hoots from the owlery. The fire was burning low in the grate, warming his orange socks. He’d had to put them out twice already, too caught up in his book to notice when they caught alight until the black, acrid smoke reached his nose. The flames were a flickering turquoise that didn’t burn his skin but scorched angry black holes in his less fortunate footwear.

He turned a page, enjoying the quiet crinkle of thick paper sliding over itself in the silence.

His tranquillity was broken abruptly however by a bang and a crash as the library door exploded inwards in a tumble of rubble. A dark haired slytherin stood framed in the doorway, frozen in horror as a fine layer of grey dust settled on his pyjamas.

“I think someone may have heard that.” Phil said conversationally.

The boy swore at him, jumping forward and spinning round to attempt with some success to clear up the mess and set the door back in its frame. After a moment of watching him struggle, Phil got up to help. Together, they stepped back to admire their handiwork.

“Ah.” Phil said. “I think, possibly, it was supposed to go the other way up.”

The boy swore again, flushing angrily. Phil sniggered. “Personally, I use the back door. It doesn’t have any protection on it. But then again, I don’t get quite the entrance you managed.”

“Shut up.” The boy mumbled, pushing his floppy brown fringe out of his eyes with a huff. “I was in a hurry okay? I have an essay due in tomorrow that I should have handed in last week and I completely forgot until just now. I had a nightmare that McGonagall turned me into a chicken and served me to first years coated in batter.”

Phil laughed as the skinny boy shuddered.

“What year are you in?” Phil asked, taking pity on his lanky frame and baggy blue pyjamas.

“Third.”

“I’m in fifth. Trust me, I know she seems pretty scary but she’s not actually going to transfigure you into a table. More likely she’ll just make you write lines or something. Seriously, sleep is more important. Also not blowing yourself up.” Phil smiled.

Dan ignored the second remark. “I already have detention from Snape though!” His voice was high with anxiety. “He hates my guts. He’d love any excuse to get me into even more trouble than I’m already in. And anyway, I don’t wanna piss McGonagall off. Preach what you practice, you’re still awake too. I just need to get this finished. Thanks for helping with the door, I’ll, er, leave you to sort that out.”

Phil tsked. “Honestly. Hopeless Slytherins.”

“Stupid Hufflepuffs. Sticking the door back on upside down.”

“That was you!” Phil exclaimed.

“No, that was you trying to be helpful. I had it just fine until you had to butt in.”

“Really? That’s not what it looked like.”

“Stop distracting me. I’ve got a foot to write by nine and I don’t know anything about intra-species transfiguration. Go fix the door.” A grin had slipped onto the boy’s face despite himself, and he turned away – striding swiftly through the rows of books, his pyjamas billowing majestically in the wind behind him.

Phil rolled his eyes and turned to the door with a chuckle.

~

“Are you really stuck?”

Phil’s voice made the boy start, and he knocked over his ink pot – black ink pouring viscously all over the rows of messy scrawl. He cursed, trying to mop it up with his sleeve and turning angrily to Phil. “Jesus. What am I going to do now?! Such a Hufflepuff!”

“Sorry,” Phil sighed. “I was just trying to help – I was going to say what you’d written was wrong anyway. Intra-species is different animals in the same species. You’re writing about inter-species, changing it from one animal to another.”

The boy moaned loudly, burying his face in the mess of parchment and ink. “I’m so screwed,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by the table. “I haven’t got a clue what to write about.”

“I’ve already done that essay,” Phil said gently. “Let me help.”

“It’s like three in the morning. You need to go to bed.” The boy shook his head.

“What’s your name?” Phil asked.

“Dan. Seriously, don’t mess yourself up just for some stupid scrawny third year.” Dan mumbled, his eyes dropping.

“I’m Phil, nice to meet you. And don’t be silly, I’m going to help you. I’m a Hufflepuff, remember. It’s our job.” Phil grinned, reaching forwards tentatively to ouch Dan’s shoulder reassuringly.

Dan flinched, his eyes narrowing, but he sighed. “Are you sure? I’m not going to try too hard to get rid of you, I could really use the help.”

“I wasn’t sleepy anyway.” Phil grinned.

~

“Um, Phil… Wake up Phil. It’s time for lessons. You need to wake up.”

Dan was still in his pyjamas and his eyes were heavy with sleep. He tugged uncertainly at Phil’s robes and Phil stirred, glancing groggily up at Dan with bleary eyes.

“What time is it?” He said, his voice hoarse.

“Eight-thirty.” Dan yawned, rubbing his eye with his fist and clutching a roll of parchment to his chest.

A small sixth year girl walked past with her bag, surveying them curiously as she settled down on a table with a cup of steaming coffee.

“Um. You’ve got ink on your face,” Phil sniggered. “Just – there. And there. Also there. You might want to take a bath actually.”

“Oh God,” Dan moaned. “I really have to run. Thank you so much, Phil. And sorry I kept you up all night.” Dan rubbed sheepishly at his face, trying to hide the blush that was creeping into his cheeks from the girl giggling at him across the room.

“S’alright,” Phil yawned. “I have a free after charms. I can curl up in front of the fire and have a nap.”

Dan smiled, biting his lip. “Bye then. Thanks. For the door as well.”

“Crap!” Phil gasped. “I forgot to fix the door! That’s probably why there’s barely anyone in here, oh my god.”

Dan’s eyes widened in horror. “Right. Well, I’ll leave you to deal with that then. Give my love to Madam Prince.” With that, Dan set off towards the back door at a sprint.

Phil groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Bloody Slytherins.” He muttered under his breath.

Across the room, the small girl stifled a giggle.

~

The Great Hall was packed for lunch and Phil sat down with a yawn on a bench full of his friends.

“Have you been up all night reading again, Philip Lester?” Carrie scolded. Her soft curls tumbled down to her shoulders in a golden waterfall. Both fifth year Hufflepuffs, they’d been friends since the first day they’d clutched terrified at one another before sorting.

“I was doing a good deed,” Phil protested. “Helping a little third year with his homework.”

Carrie narrowed her eyes. “Phil. How much sleep did you get?”

“A couple of hours maybe…” Phil ducked expertly out of the way as Carrie made to hit him with a heavy book.

“I hope you didn’t do it all for him. You’re too much of a pushover Phil, they’ll never learn that way.” she frowned.

“No! I just helped. The poor kid was terrified, he nearly set the whole library on fire trying to break in.”

“A bit like you did in your first year?” Carrie raised her eyebrow.

“We don’t talk about that.” Phil grinned.

Carrie sighed dramatically. “You’re too good, Phil. You’re going to make yourself sick. Oooh, post.”

Hundreds of owls descended on the great hall with a beating of wings and rustling of feathers, making their way to their owners and hooting dolefully. Phil’s owl, a small tawny named Eric, alighted in his sandwich and gave him an affectionate nip. Phil offered him a bacon rind in return and slipped the small package from his legs. A letter from his parents and a photo of his little brother waving up at Phil from his birthday cake. Phil smiled fondly.

It wasn’t until Carrie leaned forwards to retrieve her own parcel that Phil spotted a familiar face in a far corner of the hall, staring wistfully up at the cloud of owls circling amongst the candles. Dan was sat on his own. As Phil stared, Dan turned and gave him a cautious smile before blushing and looking down intently into his soup.

Phil bit his lip, but his thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Chris, broomstick over one arm and a red and gold scarf wound proudly around his neck.

“Alright ladies?” He grinned, ruffling their hair. “Has Phil been up all night trying to make a love potion again? Or is he just going for the undead look? I’ve always thought you’d make a hot vampire, Phil.”

“It was one time.” Phil mumbled, his face burning.

Carrie jumped to his rescue with a devilish grin. “Talking of love Chris, is that a certain dreamy Italian Ravenclaw I see just behind you?”

Chris straightened up as if he’d been electrocuted, spinning round to glance not so subtly over his shoulder.

PJ Liguori stood behind them, engrossed in conversation with a group at the Ravenclaw table. He had transferred from an Italian academy three years earlier with not a word of English, so Chris had decided to communicate his feelings through song.

“What was it the little cupid sang right in the middle of the Great Hall, at breakfast, in front of the  _whole school_?” Carrie continued, enjoying herself. “Your eyes are as green as a fresh prickled toad? Was that it? My, Chris, you have a way with words.”

“Shut up shut up,” Chris hissed. “Might I remind you he still doesn’t know it was from me and I’d like to keep it that way, thanks.”

“Oh dear,” Carrie sighed. “My boys. You’re both so completely hopeless with the whole love thing. What am I going to do with you?”

“We all know you fancy Phil.” Chris said harshly.

Phil and Carrie turned away from each other awkwardly.

“Har har,” Carrie muttered. “Very funny.”

Chris rolled his eyes. “Budge up a bit. If I sit just right I’ve got a beautiful view of that glorious Italian behind.”

Grudgingly they moved apart to accommodate Chris’s lanky frame.

“How’s it going with Suzie then?” Chris asked Phil.

Phil shrugged. “Same old really. She was complaining that I smell like soil all through charms this morning.”

Carrie snorted. “You don’t smell like soil, Phil,” she sniffed his hair. “Okay, maybe a little bit. But it’s a woody smell. It’s sweet as well. You smell warm. Like cinnamon.” Carrie fell silent suddenly, seeming to realise she’d said too much.

“You spend too much time in the greenhouses,” Chris interjected wisely. “You and your bloody plums. And all the other weird crap you’re growing in there.”

“Plants are nice,” Phil smiled. “They’re not as annoying as people. Mainly because they don’t speak. And none of them are called Chris.”

Chris ignored him. “I reckon you should break it off with Suzie. It’s clearly not going anywhere, you haven’t even kissed her yet for God’s sake. Now Carrie here, Carrie is a fine specimen of a woman.”

“Shut up, Chris.” Carrie muttered.

“I’m serious!” Chris carried on. “You two would be great together, you just don’t see it. You’re like an old married couple already. I tell you I arrgh!”

Chris was cut short in a strangled yelp as a certain tall Italian with curly hair and sparkling green eyes leant over their table and flashed them a heart melting crooked grin. “Hi guys,” his voice was low and melodic like smooth, dark, Italian chocolate. “Mind if I take this bread basket? We’re all out.”

Chris opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish.

“Yeah, go for it.” Carrie sniggered.

Amidst their stifled giggles, Phil caught sight of Dan again on the other side of the hall. He was staring at the three of them with that same, wistful look in his eyes. As he noticed Phil looking he blushed quickly, looking away and then getting to his feet and walking quietly out of the Hall. Phil watched him go.

~

“Ave insidium apricot something something ball sack.”

Phil sniggered as Chris kneaded his forehead in frustration, his wand pointing limply at a determinedly inanimate quill.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it goes.”

“No, really? And there I was convinced Merlin named a motion spell after his left testicle.” Carrie grinned. They were lounging comfortably on a worn pink sofa in front of the Gryffindor common room fireplace, their feet resting dangerously close to the quill Chris was trying to animate. “What exactly is it that you’re trying to do to the poor feather anyway? That eagle didn’t get plucked to have obscenities yelled at its feathers, you know.”

Chris sighed. “I just want it to sing the national anthem in a Scottish accent. Is that too much to ask?”

Phil and Carrie both laughed, and as they did Phil’s eyes strayed to the window. A figure was battling slowly through the thick snow, making his way towards the forbidden forest. He was tall with brown hair and his robes hung awkwardly off his slender frame.

~

The next morning, Phil made a point of looking over at the Slytherin table for Dan. He was sat in his usual place, at the very far corner, on his own. Phil couldn’t help notice the wishful (if not hopeful) expression on Dan’s face as he glanced up at the post owls.

Eric didn’t have anything to report, but he’d popped in to visit and now nestled comfortably against Phil’s chest, helping himself to cereal. Phil ran his thumb gently over his feathery head, still watching Dan. Suddenly, he had an idea.

“Eric, stop eating my cereal,” he murmured, “I’ve got work for you.”

~

Phil wished he could have taken a picture of the moment Eric landed in front of Dan with a hastily scribbled roll of parchment taped to his leg. Eric puffed out his chest, standing to attention. Dan glanced up and down the table, clearly convinced the small owl had got the wrong recipient, then tentatively reached out to read the name on the scroll. His face a picture of disbelief, he untied the parchment and flattened it out to read (paying no attention to Eric, who was now enjoying Dan’s unattended orange juice). Even from across the hall, Phil could see Dan’s cheeks redden and a smile creep across his face. It had been nothing special, and Phil had simply signed it with ‘your friend’, but clearly it had been a welcome surprise to Dan as almost immediately he began scribbling a response on the back of the parchment. He tied it back to Eric’s leg and watched him keenly.

Almost too late, Phil realised his plan. He was watching to see which student the small owl returned to. Quickly, Phil gathered up his bag and slipped quietly out of the hall – not ready to blow his cover just yet. He waited by the marble staircase for Eric to find him and eagerly opened up the scroll.

_Dear ‘friend’,_

_Thank you very much for your letter. Your owl is cute. Now I’m sending him back to you to find out who you are._

_Dan_

Phil grinned. As long as he didn’t get up and follow Eric out of the door, his plan would have failed. Already Phil was settling down on the bottom step to write his reply, determined to be more careful this time. He would send the letter after potions, he decided. That way Dan wouldn’t be able to trace him.

_-_

_Dear Dan,_

_Nice try. I’m a little bit ahead of you though. Since you replied to me however, that makes us pen pals, and now we’re pen pals you have to tell me about yourself. And maybe I’ll tell you a bit about myself in return._

_Your friend_

-

Phil got the reply halfway through history of magic.  _Keen_ , he grinned to himself.

_-_

_Oh great and mysterious ‘friend’,_

_What do you want to know? This is a bit unfair, you already know my name but I don’t know anything about you. Since you are entertaining me however (and your owl is cute), I will provide you with the basic facts. My name is Dan Howell. (If you know my surname already I may have to report you for stalking.) I’m muggleborn, from a delightful little town called Wokingham. I’m Slytherin’s only 6ft 14 year old and I was birthed into this world on the 11 thof June. Your turn – give me some clues!_

_Dan_

-

Snow fell thickly on the grounds, covering the mountains with layers of glittering white.

_-_

_Dear Dan,_

_Muggleborn and a Slytherin? That’s pretty cool. How is life over in snake land anyway? (This is a clue. I’m not in Slytherin.) I’m 6’2, I feel your pain. The owl’s name is Eric, but he also responds to feathery idiot, Mr Stupid and Your Majesty. I think he likes you. I am, in ironic contrast, a pureblood Hufflepuff and I was born on the 30 th of January. I like rock music and goblin death metal._

_Oh great and mysterious friend_

-

The snow fell like a rain of stars, swirling and dancing in the lights that streamed out of the castle windows.

_-_

_Anonymous,_

_Muggleborn so I didn’t know anything about Slytherin house. If I had, I would have probably begged the sorting hat not to put me there. I didn’t know anything about the reputation and It’s awful. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’ve been here three years and I still don’t have any friends. Honestly, I’d rather be a fucking Hufflepuff – at least they all seem to talk to each other. Over here it’s just clique after clique. There’s the ‘my parents are death eaters’ clique which seems to consist of half the house. Then there’s the ‘my parents are rich and very important’ group and their customary followers: the ‘I wish my parents were rich and important and maybe if I hang around with you I will be instead’ lot. Then there’s just the absolute slimeballs. They’re not all as horrible as everyone makes out though, some of them are pretty kind and stuff. But making friends isn’t high on any of their agendas. There’s a lot of introverts and people who just don’t want or need company. I’m introverted, I know I wouldn’t be great with absolutely loads of friends, but just one would be nice._

_Eric is cute then, I like ‘Your Majesty’. I wish I had an owl. I still listen to muggle music, death metal sounds good though – maybe you can recommend me some good bands?_

_Sorry, I had a bit of a rant there. Your turn._

_Dan_

-

Phil bit his lip. This scroll was considerably thicker than usual, and he tied it carefully to Eric’s leg.

_-_

_Dear Dan,_

_I’ve already told you – I’m your friend, seriously – if you ever want to rant I’m here and I’m listening. Once you’ve figured out who I am, you’re welcome to come sit with me if it gets a bit lonely over there. I can’t imagine what it would be like, I’m just a Hufflepuff but I wouldn’t switch houses for the world. Everyone looks after each other here. I’m introverted too though. I like to read a lot, especially late at night when there’s no one else in the library. (Have you guessed who I am yet? I’ll keep going.) I’m in my fifth year. My friends are great but they’re mostly extroverts, so having some alone time is good, it helps me recover. Gardening’s good too._

_You don’t know any wizard music?? What have you been doing all these years?! Start with the Weird Sisters – ‘into the night’ is good, also ‘do the hippogriff’. They’re pretty mainstream so it’s a good place to start your journey, god knows how you’ve survived on muggle music – I’ve heard that stuff, it sounds like banshees gargling polyjuice potion or something. I mean it though, when I say we’re friends. I realise I’ve kind of forced myself on you so don’t feel like you’re obliged to reply or anything, it’s giving Eric a good work out though – god knows he needs it._

_Are you going to the match tomorrow? My friend’s a chaser for Gryffindor so we’ll be there to cheer him on against your lot. Do you fly? I fell off my first lesson and have been too scared to get back on a broom since. Shh though, I’ve told all my friends I get air sickness._

_Your friend, the expert door fixer._

-

The four long tables were laden with tureens of porridge, plates of kippers, mountains of toast and dishes of eggs and bacon, beneath the enchanted sky (today, a clear and vibrant morning blue). Phil sat down at the Hufflepuff table next to Carrie, who had her copy of Voyages with Vampires propped open against a milk jug. He had only just started his cereal when there was a rushing sound overhead and a hundred or so owls streamed in, circling the hall and dropping packages or letters into the chattering crowd. Phil held his breath, pushing his bowl to one side and starting intently up into the mass of feathers to try and pick out Eric.

A parcel landed in his cereal with a splash and he reached for it eagerly, only to realise that it belonged to the gangly sixth year next to him and to awkwardly pass it over, dripping milk on his robes. Suddenly, Eric was in front of him, hooting in welcome. Eagerly, Phil snatched the offered letter out of his beak and folded it open.

_-_

_Dear… Phil?_

_I hope I got it right otherwise this will be really awkward._

_Thank you though, everyone always goes on about how kind the Hufflepuffs are but I always thought you guys were just wimpy and over romantic. You’re actually really,_ really _, (and unnecessarily) nice. Yes, I fly – that’s actually what I’m doing while you’re reading. I’ve never told anyone this before but I like to fly over the forbidden forest mainly. You see some pretty cool things and for someone brought up without magic it’s all the more amazing to see all the other magic things happening that you wouldn’t normally see in school. Like last night, probably the best night I’ve ever had at Hogwarts. I was skimming the trees really low looking for centaurs as they sometimes stop and talk to me. I saw this strange silver light glowing up from a glade so I landed a little way off and walked up, thinking I might see a unicorn and I was right – you’re never going to believe this, but I watched a unicorn give birth. It sounds a bit weird when I say it like that. Honestly, it was the most amazing and beautiful thing ever – there were centaurs keeping guard and all sorts of animals watching from the trees because it was just so, magical I guess. The baby was tiny. It looked like molten silver all shimmering and with tiny little spindly legs and a stumpy horn. Afterwards, the mum let everyone in the glade go up one by one and have a look at the baby – not too close obviously. I wasn’t going to because I felt like I was gate crashing a bit, but one of the centaurs (some macho dude called Bane who’s probably the closest thing I have to a friend. Wow. Horse dudes, I’m embarrassing.) pushed me forwards and told me it would be disrespectful not to pay my respects after watching._

_Sorry about all that, I just haven’t been able to tell anyone what with the no friends thing and it’s just been this amazing thing inside of me that I really wanted to share so you’re the unlucky recipient. You probably think I’m so weird now._

_Thank you for the music recs, I think I’ve heard of them – they’re the hairy ones, right? Yeah I’m going to the match, I’ll probably glare at you from across the stadium for supporting the enemy._

_Thanks a lot, seriously having someone to talk to makes my day. You really don’t have to do this though, befriend some awkward third year because you feel sorry for him. I’m not complaining though, you’re ridiculously nice._

_Dan_

-

Phil finished reading with a smile and glanced over at the Slytherin table. Dan was watching him nervously, and as he caught Phil’s eye he flashed him a tentative grin. Phil’s smile widened into a beam and Dan almost visibly relaxed, blushing into his green and silver scarf.

~

They wrote to each other for four weeks, every day without fail. Despite the age and house gap, they had a lot in common. They saw things in the same way. They liked the same music and a lot of the same food, and they both supported the Hollyhead Harpies quidditch team.

Phil was curled up in a squashy armchair writing a reply to Dan’s latest letter when he was interrupted by a tapping at the window. Eyes wide with surprise, he opened the catch to let Eric flop inside with a shiver. That was strange, they’d never sent more than one letter to each other at a time before getting a reply. Curiously, Phil straightened out the parchment.

_-_

_Phil,_

_You have to help me, I’m seriously failing transfiguration. I spent all morning trying to change a beetle into a button but all I did was give the beetle a lot of exercise. That’s barely even second year level, and McGonagall’s threatening to move me down into her first year class. I think I’d rather die. I know it was a while ago, but you seemed really good at the theory at least and it’s not like I have any other friends I can turn to – please, please will you help me out? I get it if you’re busy, seriously you don’t need to waste your time on my stupidity but like, if you’ve got nothing on, I’m dying a little bit._

_Sorry,_

_Dan_

_-_

He really did look like death when Phil turned up to the library two hours later, textbook under one arm. Dan was sat at a table in a far corner under a high window, pouring over a book with tired, straining eyes. His skin was paler than usual and he had dark purple shadows under each eye. He seemed almost to be shivering, and Phil approached cautiously.

“Um, Dan?”

Dan jumped, spinning round to spot Phil and then looking down suddenly, awkward and shy all of a sudden despite weeks of communications.

“Wow. It’s weird to be talking to you properly, you know, after all this time. Hi. You look terrible.” Phil smiled gently.

Dan looked up again, reassured by Phil’s relaxed tone. “Hey,” he said shyly. “Thank you so much for this, for coming to help. Um. I don’t know where to start really. I’m bad at everything.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Phil grinned. “Shall we start with the basics then? So I know what you’re doing wrong?”

“Like I said, pretty much everything. But yeah. Basics. Okay.” Dan took a deep breath.

Suddenly, without thinking, Phil pulled Dan into a hug. Maybe it was the defeated slump in his shoulders, or the eyes that seemed to be threatening at any moment to brim over with tears; but for whatever reason Phil held the skinny boy tight as though he could wrap his whole body around Dan and protect him from the world.

“Don’t worry,” Phil said. “You’re going to be okay.”

 

 


	2. Somewhere in The Forbidden Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dan persuades Phil to overcome his fear of flying.

They flitted along corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the high windows. At every turn, Phil expected to run into Filch or Mrs Norris, but they were lucky. They slipped behind a tapestry and down a hidden passage way, emerging in a gallery full of suits of armour.  They hadn’t gone more than a dozen paces when a doorknob rattled and something came shooing out of a classroom in front of them. It was Peeves. He caught sight of them and gave a squeal of delight.

“Shut up, Peeves – please – you’ll get us in trouble.” Phil pleaded in a hushed whisper.

Peeves cackled. “Wandering around after midnight? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty naughty, you’ll get caughty.”

“Not if you don’t give us away, Peeves, please.”

“Should tell Filch I should,” said Peeves in a saintly voice, but his eyes glittered wickedly. “It’s for your own good, you know.”

“Get out of the way,” snapped Dan, taking a swipe at Peeves – this was a big mistake.

“STUDENTS OUT OF BED!” Peeves bellowed. “STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!”

Ducking under Peeves they ran for their lives, right to the end of the corridor, where they slammed into a locked door.

They could hear footsteps already, running towards Peeves’s shouts, and Phil hurriedly drew his wand and whispered, ‘ _Alohamora!_ ’

The lock clicked and the door swung open – they darted through and pulled it to as quietly as they could behind them.

“Okay,” Phil whispered, “slight deviation from the plan. We’re in the third floor corridor. You weren’t here, but it was closed off a while back ago due to a nasty incident with a three headed dog. I’m not quite sure what happened to the dog in the end, but I suggest we proceed with caution. We should be able to come out the other side and make it out yet, as long as Peeves keeps Filch distracted for a while.”

They stole silently down the corridor, ears alert for the slightest whisper of three headed panting. Luckily it seemed Fluffy had been relocated somewhere tropical and they made it to the other end with all important limbs still firmly attached.

~

Outside, the night air was crisp and fresh. A touch of frost lay on the ground and, although the spring days had turned sunny, the nights were still cold enough to draw their breath out in a cloud in front of their faces. Phil was glad of his winter cloak. He wished he’d worn gloves too as he rubbed his red hands together and plunged them deep into the folds of black fabric.

Dan squinted into the darkness. “We need to veer left so the castle lights don’t catch us, just in case anyone’s looking out the window. Avoid that tree though. I discovered its hospitality in my first year. I told Madam Pomfrey that I’d fallen down the stairs, but I don’t think she bought it. Something tells me she’s had to patch up a fair few whomping willow victims in her time.” he muttered, leading the way and clinging close to the shadow at the base of the castle walls. “I keep my broom inside a hollow tree. It’s a bit weird I know, but breaking into the broom shed every evening would be a nightmare and I can’t really pretend to be sleepwalking if I’m caught in the corridors with my broom over my shoulder. Also, just to let you know, I’ve never tried to put more than one person on it. I think you’re supposed to get special brooms for that. We might die. Just a disclaimer, all activities are undertaken at your own risk and I will not be held accountable for the outcome. Really I should make you sign something.”

Phil grinned as he followed silently behind Dan, his feet pattering on the damp ground.

The tree Dan had chosen was tall and gnarled, with so many branches coppicing off from the stump that it was almost impossible to see into the hollow centre or even to know that it existed at all. Even in broad daylight the broomstick would have been invisible from the outside, and if you were to clamber in towards the centre it would had appeared as just another branch. Dan stood on his tiptoes to retrieve it with a tenderness about the way he cradled it in his arms. He turned apprehensively to Phil.

“If you get scared just tell me and I’ll land, okay?” He whispered.

Phil nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He was glad of the dark because he was sure his skin had paled substantially. Trembling slightly, he mounted the broom behind Dan.

“Oh, er, you’ll have to put your hands round my waist to hang on,” Dan muttered, “Is that okay? Sorry,”

“Yeah it’s fine,” Phil replied, making a conscious effort to stop himself clinging to Dan and squeezing till his eyeballs popped. “Tell me if I’m holding on too tight okay? I might get scared.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine,” Dan reassured him. “I’ll fly really low in the trees to start with. Slow too, so if you did fall it wouldn’t hurt. We won’t go higher unless you want to. You ready?”

“What, are we going right this second?!” Phil panicked.

“Well unless you wanna spend the next half hour just sitting here then yeah, now?”

“Oh, uh, okay,” Phil squeezed his eyes shut.

“I’ll count down. Squeeze as tight as you need okay, don’t worry about me. I’ll just die quietly and then we’ll crash and you can be back on the ground.”

“Thanks.” Phil muttered.

“Three,”

“Oh god.”

“Two,”

“Dan, I’m not sure if I can-”

Dan pushed off gently, a rush of cool air pushing past their faces and pulling their hair tight against their scalps. For a moment, Phil forgot to breathe, but at a nudge from Dan he slowly let out the breath he was holding. They were floating through the trees just a few feet off the ground, Phil’s toes skimming the moss floor. He blushed, his fear seeming a little silly now. In front of him Dan grunted.

“Phil, you okay? If so I don’t suppose you could give me some light? I need both hands for steering but it’s a lot darker in the trees. You will have to let go with one hand though.”

“If I don’t, will we hit a tree?” Phil asked.

“Almost definitely.”

“Right. Okay, I’m sure I can do this. We’re not going very fast I can let go with one hand.”

“Yes, you can. You can do it right now please.”

“…”

“Phil, you’re still holding on and I still can’t see anything.”

“I know.”

“Phil…”

“I will take my right hand off your waist.”

“Phil.”

“I will.”

“You’re right, you will do it now please.”

“Yes.”

“Phil.”

“I’m doing it I’m doing it!”

“I literally can’t see anymore. I might as well shut my eyes.”

“No!”

“I’m gonna shut my eyes.”

“No! I’m doing it I swear I’ll do it.”

“Left eye closed…”

“No Dan don’t be stupid I’m-”

“Right eye closed…”

“Dan!! Dan open your eyes right this minute Dan I DAN WATCH OUT FOR THAT – LUMOS!”

The forest was flooded with cool blue light and Dan’s eyes snapped open, bulging as he swerved violently – narrowly avoiding a heavy oak. He caught his breath. “Well done, Phil.” He grinned.

Behind him, Phil was breathing heavily. After a moment, he seemed to have regained his composure, holding his wand steadily out in front of him.

“I dislike you.” He muttered.

“I didn’t have a choice, we would have crashed eventually,” Dan grinned. “You did it though. See, it’s not so bad. I’m very proud of you.”

“Huh. I guess it’s not so bad. We’re not very high up though.” Phil huffed.

“No, we’re not,” Dan said, amused. “If you wanted to stop at any point all you had to do was put your feet down.”

“Well, yeah…”

Dan laughed. “I can see now. Wanna go faster?”

Phil took a sharp intake of breath. There was a brief pause. “Yeah, alright.”

“Alright.” Dan agreed.

He sped up gently. They couldn’t get much speed up with two of them anyway and despite his giggles he didn’t really want to scare Phil. The leaves whipped at their faces, but softly – more like a caress of waxy feathers. The rustling of the wind in the blackened canopy and the blur of blue and purple trees flying past them created a surreal sensation of dream-flight; as if it were the world moving and not them.

Dan waited until he was sure Phil had relaxed before veering upwards suddenly and breaking out of the trees. He could hear Phil gasp behind him, and he grinned. Their toes were skimming the treetops like a sea of molten black and purple shadow that dipped and swirled out in front of them in a seemingly endless lake of leaves. The waxen moon shone down with brilliant silver light and the stars were pinpricks in the sky. Dan sped up, no fear of the trees ending – the forest spanned for miles. While the treetops were speeding underneath them, the stars in the sky remained still. Dan turned in a slow ark, careful not to tip Phil off, and they were speeding back towards the castle.

“It’s so beautiful,” Phil whispered, “I’ve never seen it from here before. We’re always looking up at it.”

The castle was bathed in silver moonlight; silhouetted black and gold where the fire burned in the torches in the windows.

“You might want to put your wand out,” Dan murmured, “Kind of a good way to draw attention to ourselves when we get closer.”

The castle seemed even bigger from above. The towers and spires reached up to the stars and the turrets seemed only to welcome them home.

“Do we have to go back now?” Phil asked softly.

“I thought you didn’t like flying? No, but I don’t want to go too far away with you in case we lose track of time. We can’t go fast enough to get back in time if it starts getting light. If you want to stay out, we’ll have to go back down undercover again and stay close to the castle walls.” Dan smiled. Normally night flights were chill, but Phil’s arms were warm around his waist and his torso shielding his back from the bite of the wind.

Phil rested his head in the crook of Dan’s neck, staring almost hungrily up at the sky. “Okay,” he sighed. “Let’s go down. Can you show me forest things? Centaurs and unicorns and werewolves?”

Dan laughed, dipping gently back down into the canopy. “I doubt we’ll see any werewolves. Unicorns are rare, and the centaurs mainly hang out a bit further West. We might see some mulch slugs if you’re lucky.”

Phil made a face. “Great. You promised amazing things from this trip, I could be in bed right now you know.”

“I’m not stopping you,” Dan smiled. “Really you need to learn how to fly yourself. Then we can spend all night up there and we can go all the way to the mountains and watch the stars from on top of the world.”

“That would be nice.” Phil said quietly.

“Oh god. We’re such a pair of soppy idiots. Taking a romantic ride out to see the stars.” Dan cringed.

“Don’t tell Suzie,” Phil laughed. “We’re just spending some quality time together. Anyway, you owed it to me for making you pass the transfiguration mock, remember.”

“Thank you so much,” Dan said earnestly, “Literally nothing I ever do could repay you for that. You’ve saved my skin.”

“It was fun, don’t worry about it.”

“Does… does this mean we won’t hang out anymore?” Dan said shyly.

“I hope not, I mean, you’re still pretty crappy at transfiguration. That was only one test.” Phil grinned.

Dan tried not to look too relieved. “If you get bored of me just leave okay, I must be so annoying.”

“Don’t be stupid. You’re nice. And you’re funny. Even if you become a transfiguration pro, I hope we still stay friends. You may only be an ickle third year but you’re alright really, for a Slytherin.” Phil gave Dan a gentle squeeze. Without thinking, he let go with one arm to light his wand – holding it out to light Dan’s way.

“You’re alright too I guess, for a Hufflepuff.” Dan grinned. The difference in Phil’s relaxed posture from when he’d first clambered ungainly on to the broomstick was probably a lot more satisfying than Dan’s pitiful improvements at transfiguration. As gently as possible, he brought them down to land. “Okay,” He said, shouldering his broomstick. “Let’s explore.”

~

While Dan longed for open sky and the twinkle of the stars against the velvet night; Phil slipped as easily into the forest as he did his pyjamas. His fingers brushed the bark of every tree he passed, his feet treading with care on the springy forest floor. Within seconds he’d located more beetles and slumbering forest mice than Dan had ever seen during his wanderings.

“What? I like trees okay.” Phil had said defensively after Dan had laughed at him for pressing his ear to the bark of a particularly elegant silver birch trunk.

“It’s so different at night. I’ve always been kind of too scared to come here in the dark, alone. But I guess on your broom you feel a lot safer.” Phil ran a vine gently through his fingers.

Dan nodded. “I’ve never really been that interested in plants. They don’t do much. Well I mean they either do nothing or try to kill you.”

Phil shook his head emphatically. “That’s the thing with herbology. Very few people understand it. Like, they say they do – they’re like ‘oh yeah I can see why this plant would be really useful and that we should grow it.’ But it’s not just that. It’s like, the act of bringing something into life and watching it grow for you and flourish under your care and like you don’t get any of that blowing stuff up. It’s a different, more fulfilling type of satisfaction. Slower but more wholesome. I mean, when you blow something it’s gone and so you’re just angry again looking for something else to blow up.”

Dan chuckled. “I wanna say I get it but you’re right, I don’t. I get why you get it though. Maybe that’s why you’re happy all the time, even if you do smell like soil. I don’t have the patience. I like action. I like flying and blowing stuff up; preferably at the same time. That would be really cool. Picture it: blood red sunset, flying off on a firebolt and shooting jets of flame over my shoulder without even looking. Blowing up whole villages in a few seconds of fury and then boom: I’m gone.”

“I think what you’re after is a dragon.” Phil laughed wryly.

“Maybe I’ll become an animagus,” Dan sniggered, “Turn into a fifty foot fire breathing black scaly dragon. I reckon that would be pretty cool.”

Phil rolled his eyes. “You’re such a little boy.”

Dan flourished a mock bow. “And you’re such an old man.”

“You’re gonna have to work a lot harder at the old magic stuff if you wanna turn into anything, let alone a dragon.” Phil giggled.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I am a master wizard, I put Merlin to shame.”

“Oh yes,” Phil nodded wisely. “A master wizard who tried to turn a cushion into a kettle and ended up with an enchilada.”

~

They had been walking for an hour, teasing each other gently and admiring the small creatures that scuttled at night. The heavy beach trees parted and they were in a moonlit glade. At the centre of the glade stood a hawthorn; tall, withered and impossibly old.

“That’s a wand tree.” Phil breathed.

“How can you tell?” Dan asked.

“Bowtruckle nests. But look Dan – where the moon hits the bark on the other side – what’s that?”

They walked cautiously round to the side of the tree that faced the moon and stopped dead in their tracks with a gasp.

Hundreds of names had been carved into the wood with a simple moonlight spell – invisible except when the moon shines on the glade. Names in hearts, dates, small symbols, declarations of love – all shining shimmering and silver against the dark wood. Some looked like they’d been there for hundreds of years. Phil wondered which one had been the first. ‘Lily and James forever’ was written in the largest heart, precociously in the centre of the tree. It had been scribbled over many times, crude words and taunts surrounding it. Something told Phil neither James nor Lily ad written that there, and had been less than pleased when they discovered it.

“What are we going to write?” Phil asked.

“Huh?” Dan raised his eyebrows.

“Well we’ve found it, I get the feeling that means we have to leave our mark. Like, this is a pretty special tree. All these people must have gone into the Forbidden Forest which is not a thing a lot of people do. They had to go here at night which is even more stupid, and they had to stumble across this exact tree. Like, that’s a lot of chance. We’ll probably never find it again. It’s just somewhere in the Forbidden Forest where weirdo throughout time have all convened to communicate purely through chance.”

Dan nodded. “Okay. Most of these are really soppy though, no one would walk here at night alone but apparently a fair few lovers think it’s romantic. I guess we just put our names and a date?”

“Okay. Let’s go under Luna something, she has nice handwriting.” Carefully, he used a small jet of silver light to carve ‘Dan and Phil’ into the withered bark.

Dan traced the delicate letters with his fingers. “We’ve left our mark on Hogwarts now. That’s good. This place has been my first magical home, and I don’t want it to just forget me when I leave, you know?”

“I don’t think it ever forgets anyone. Not the castle or the forest or the trees. But you’re right, we’ve left ourselves somewhere solid. Somewhere special. Just like all these other people.”

“Phil,” Dan said suddenly. “Look here – it can’t be, it must just be a coincidence. Oh my god.”

“What?”

“ _’Minny and Alice.’_  isn’t McGonagall’s first name Minerva? I mean, it probably isn’t the same person. But can you imagine? How embarrassing would that be if you wrote some soppy love letter and then ended up becoming a teacher?” Dan grinned.

“We’re okay, Dan and Phil are common names,” Phil laughed. “I really hope it is her. Somehow it makes her seem a lot less scary, imagining her as some little schoolgirl wandering around in the forest at night with this Alice. Called Minny. What do you reckon she’d do if we called her Minny?”

“I think probably eviscerate us.” Dan snorted.

“I dare you to try it. On your last day of seventh year.”

“You’re on.”

“I will hold you to that. You’ve sworn on the moon tree. No take backs.”

“Oh God.”

“Don’t worry, you will be an expert sorcerer able to defend yourself from her disembowelment by then.” Phil winked.

“She may be old, but I reckon that woman can pack a mean punch.” Dan giggled.

“Kickboxing champion in three different countries, didn’t you know?”

“Attack of the haggis.”

“Death by tartan.”

The dissolved into giggles, doubled over in the quiet glade. The rustling of the leaves sounded like quiet whispered, the whole forest breathing and alive. A red deer paused to survey them curiously. It cocked its head, the white splash on its forehead reflecting the moon, before bounding off into the undergrowth. Phil watched it go with a smile on his face.

“One time, you have to introduce me to the centaurs. I feel like I’ve been badly disadvantaged not having a broom and only going in here during the day. I did see a unicorn once though. It let me touch it too, and they say they only like girls.” Phil said proudly.

“So what you’re saying is basically you’re a girl.” Dan snorted.

Phil threw a mock punch at his shoulder. “There’s nothing wrong with girls. They can be a bit moody sometimes, or maybe that’s just Suzie.”

“Are you two together now then?” Dan asked.

“I don’t even know,” sighed Phil, “I haven’t like properly asked her out, but we’re seeing each other I guess. She’s in my herbology class and she’s really smart. I think that’s why I liked her, she always brought in these amazing plants she’d been growing and I was kind of in awe. She’s pretty too. Everyone says so. But I get the feeling she’s just permanently exasperated by everything I do and say. And she gets so pissed off when I don’t listen to her. Like it’s not even deliberate, I’m just thinking about something different and she’s talking but I just slip off into a fantasy or something. I can’t help it. Honestly I do care about what she’s saying, I’m just not very good at concentrating.”

Dan smiled. “Lovers tiffs. Is she nice? That’s the important thing.”

“Yeah she is. She’s quite down to Earth.”

“So not like you then.”

“No. Not much like me.”

As the moon disappeared behind a bank of clouds, the silver scrawls began to fade. ‘ _Dan and Phil’_  lingered the longest, shining bright and silver and new.


	3. Amortentia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Phil stumbles across a love potion.

“You stink of soil. Again. Is it really so hard to take a bath after you’ve been digging about in the mud?” Dan teased.

“I’d be taking like five baths a day.” Phil rolled his eyes.

“Well you should. It’s a case of consideration for others, Philip.”

Phil laughed. “I’m sorry. Is it really awful?”

“Terrible. I’m not sure I can even sit next to you. I might just go sit over there, and you can shout instructions at me.” Dan gestured to the other end of the library.

“I’m sure Madam Prince would be thrilled by that,” Phil giggled, “If you want, I can block your nose with tissue? It’s quite a simple spell. Alternatively I could use live rats.”

“Eww. You’re ridiculous. Keep your wand away from me.”

Phil poked Dan playfully in the side with his wand, and a spattering of red sparks shot out – making Dan yelp and fall off his chair with a thump.

“Sorry sorry it was an accident! I didn’t mean to shoot sparks. I forgot it does that.” Quickly, Phil mended the scorch marks in Dan’s robes before he noticed.

“You forgot your wand does magic when you point it at stuff.”

“Yeah…”

“Jesus. I can see why Suzie’s so pissed off with you.” Dan shook his head as he clambered back onto his stool, but his expression softened at the sight of Phil’s downcast eyes. “Hey, it’s okay, it didn’t hurt. Just surprised me.”

“No it’s not that… I mean I don’t care about you obviously. It’s just, Suzie’s  _really_  pissed off with me at the moment. I can’t remember the last time she wasn’t to be honest.”

“Do you think she’s going to break it off?”

Phil nodded glumly.

Dan rubbed Phil’s shoulder comfortably, making a point to wrinkle his nose up in mock disgust at the earthy smell coming from Phil’s grubby robes. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you can patch it up. Maybe do something for her, like a grand gesture or something really romantic. Hey, you could take her to the tree in the forest and carve your names on it!”

Phil shook his head. “It wouldn’t have any meaning to it, it would be weird because I’ve already been there with you. And anyway, what would I say if she spotted our names already there?”

“Okay, good point,” Dan frowned. “How about flowers and stuff? Grow a special rose for her? If that fails, just make a love potion or something.”

Phil laughed. “We don’t get to do those till next year.”

“Steal one!” Dan grinned. “Bake her a cake?”

“Maybe,” Phil said, but his tone was unconvinced.

~

The potions dungeon was filled with a sparkling green smoke that issued from rows of bubbling cauldrons, collecting on the ceiling and clouding the room so that Phil had to squint to see the instructions on the blackboard. Professor Snape swooped through the aisles of students, sneering into the cauldrons, his face sallow and waxen in the flickering light. The fires made the small stone room uncomfortably warm and Phil was sweating in his winter robes. After attempting unsuccessfully to chop his roots several times, Phil got up to sharpen his knife. Behind the teacher’s desk, a potion was brewing in Snape’s own pewter cauldron. The surface had a mother of pearl sheen to it and steam was rising in thin pink spirals.

“Amortentia,”

The voice behind him made Phil jump. Snape leered down at Phil.

“I am preparing a cask for my sixth years. Tell me, could you describe the aroma?” Snape’s voice had an edge of amusement to it.

Phil racked his brains desperately for amortentia, he knew he’d heard the word somewhere before, but he came up blank. “Um,” he muttered, sure he was about to fail some test. “It smells like broomsticks I guess, and honey and something warm. I don’t know how to describe it.”

Snape’s sneer widened. “Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in the world. It smells differently to each person according to what attracts them. Apparently Phil Lester has a thing for Quidditch players.”

Phil blushed crimson. Their exchange had attracted the attention of most of class, and an appreciative titter went out from those who had been listening to Snape. Phil turned quickly to sharpen his knife on the stone, then hurried back to his seat without meeting Snape’s gaze. It was all the more humiliating because he didn’t even know any Quidditch players, and the broomstick smell was almost definitely because he’d met Suzie in Quality Quidditch Supplies three years earlier during a trip to Diagon Alley. He sighed, and returned to cutting roots.

~

“You stink! Jesus Christ Phil, did you literally bathe yourself in soil this time?” Dan wrinkled up his nose.

“I just had herbology, it’s not my fault!” Phil said defensively. “Anyway, you’re not smelling too savoury yourself. Are you maturing cheese in your shoes, or is that just your feet?” Phil dodged a swipe from Dan.

“Oi! My feet don’t smell. How dare you. I think actually- get that away from me!”

Phil had conjured up a large bar of soap and was making it float lazily towards Dan.

“If anyone needs that it’s you.” Dan muttered, attempting to bat away the soap with his textbook.

“I smell like roses,” Phil said cheerfully. “Quite literally. We were repotting the fanged ones in greenhouse three.”

“Okay, literally, why is there any need for fanged roses.”

“Guarding your garden?”

“That’s ridiculous. I think most of the things in that greenhouse can do the job pretty well themselves.”

“Giving them to unsuspecting lovers that have cheated on you or something?”

“That might be pretty useful actually.” Dan mused.

“See,” Phil grinned. The soap vanished with a pop as he lay back on a bean bag. “You’re getting a lot better at this transfiguration stuff. But like, you’re a really good friend as well. I was thinking, tomorrow, for the welcoming feast, do you wanna come sit with us? The delegates from all the other schools will be sitting on whatever table they want and the whole point of this tournament thing is socializing and making friends and stuff, I don’t think they’d mind if you sat on the wrong table. People move about a lot anyway, and I hate watching you sitting on your own every day when I just want to go over to you but I’m scared of getting beaten up by Slytherins.”

Dan bit his lip. His voice rose a notch as he spoke. “But I don’t know any of your friends I’d just sort of be sitting there in the way not saying much and I-”

“They’re nice I promise. Well, Carrie is. She’ll be super sweet to you and make sure you’re not feeling left out or anything. Actually she probably just won’t shut up and will get your whole life story out of you. But trust me, she won’t care that you’re a Slytherin and a third year. Chris might joke about a bit if he comes over because, you know, he’s in Gryffindor. But like Charlie and Tom and everyone will be friendly I’m sure. You’ll have way more fun than sitting on your own. And like, I’d really like us to be proper friends – not just study buddies. So you’ve got to meet them all at some point.” Phil smiled encouragingly, but Dan still looked unsure.

“I’ll think about it, okay? I’ll make my mind up on the day. I hear the Durmstrang lot are really scary so if I’m feeling intimidated I’ll come hide with you.”

Phil smiled, wishing he could pull Dan’s timid frame into his arms.

~

Phil was skipping two at a time down the marble staircase when he spotted Dan, stood alone to read a large sign that had been erected outside the entrance hall.

_TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT_

_The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving at 6 o’clock on Friday 30 th October. Lessons will end half an hour early. Students will return all bags and books to their dormitories and assemble in front of the castle to greet our guests before the Welcoming Feast._

Phil paused and bit his lip, wondering if Dan had made his mind up as to whether to sit with them or not.

“Dan!” He called, and Dan jumped. “You excited? It’s tonight and then there’s the Halloween Feast tomorrow. They’re going to have to roll me into potions on Monday.”

Dan laughed. “It’ll be cool to see people from other magic schools. I dunno, I guess being muggleborn I hadn’t thought of any wizarding community existing outside Hogwarts. It’s scary sometimes, thinking what I’ll do when I leave. I don’t have any family or anything to go to – I’ll have to be completely alone till I’ve got enough money to bring my parents into this world a bit.”

“You’ll be fine,” Phil said soothingly. “There are millions of muggleborns all over the world. And you’ll have all your friends to help you.”

“I don’t have any friends.” Dan said automatically.

“You have me,” Phil said gently, “And if you can be brave you’ll have a whole bunch more. I promise I’ll stay by your side all night and I won’t talk to anyone else.”

“Don’t be silly.” Dan said, but he smiled.

Phil grinned back. “Wanna go get breakfast then?”

“Actually I’ve already had mine.” Dan said.

“That was quick,” Phil raised his eyebrows, “What did you eat?”

“Just toast with honey. I have it every day, I’m not usually very hungry in the mornings.”

~

The conversation all week had been revolving around the Triwizard Tournament and rumours were flying around the castle like high-speed owls: who was going to try out for Hogwarts champion, what the tournament would involve, how the students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons differed from themselves. The castle too had undergone an extra thorough cleansing. Several grimy portraits had been scrubbed, much the displeasure of their subjects, who sat huddled in their frames muttering darkly and wincing as they felt their raw, pink faces. The suits of armour were suddenly gleaming and fresh garlands of flowers hung from the walls.

The staff seemed oddly tense too.

“Kendall, kindly do not reveal that you can’t even perform a simple switching spell in front of anyone from Durmstrang!” Professor McGonagall barked at the end of a particularly difficult lesson, during which Chris had accidentally managed to transplant his own ears on to a cactus.

When Phil wandered in alone for breakfast, he found that the Great Hall had been decorated overnight. Enormous silk banners hung from the walls, each of them representing a Hogwarts house. Behind the teachers’ table, the largest banner of all bore the Hogwarts coat of arms. He sat down beside Chris, who still sported large bandages on either ear and a somewhat disgruntled expression.

“They’re not even letting us practice. I’d thought, with the Quidditch Cup cancelled, we’d still meet up as a rough team to, you know, stay in shape and stuff. But apparently they’re using the pitch for one of the bloody Triwizard tasks.” Chris grumbled.

Phil patted his back sympathetically. “You can still fly though. I’ve heard flying over the forest at night is pretty cool, because you won’t get in trouble then and you can go all the way to the mountains.”

“Who told you that?” Chris asked, surprised. “That’s mental. You’d probably get eaten by thestrals or something.”

“Nah, I reckon it would be fun.”

“You don’t even like flying!” Chris exclaimed. “It’s all that time spent staying up helping random third years, you need to get more sleep mate. You’re going even weirder than usual.”

Phil blushed guiltily. “Talking about random third years, you may have noticed Dan kinda doesn’t have any friends. I told him he could sit with us tonight if he wanted.”

Chris groaned. “Please tell me you’re not going to make me talk to a thirteen year old.”

“He’s fourteen actually, only a year younger than you.”

“You sure? When’s his birthday?” Chris asked sceptically.

“Eleventh of June.”

“That would make him thirteen then, if he’s in third year.”

Phil frowned. “He definitely said fourteen…”

Chris laughed. “I think he’s been having you on mate. I would too if I wanted to hang out with an older kid. Well, it’s your call. Carrie will talk to him I’m sure. But if he’s annoying, I will poison his food.”

Phil rolled his eyes as Chris stuffed a final slice of toast into his mouth and sauntered out of the hall. Why had Dan lied to him? Or had he been kept back a year? His transfiguration was pretty awful… Phil mused silently into his cornflakes.

~

There was a pleasant air of anticipation in the air all day. Nobody was very attentive in lessons, and when the bell rang the whole school rushed to assemble in the Entrance Hall.

The heads of houses were ordering their students into lines.

“Kendall, straighten your hat,” Professor McGonagall snapped at Chris. “Gryffindors, follow me.”

Professor Sprout led the Hufflepuffs out and down the steps to spread out in front of the castle. It was a cold, clear evening; dusk was falling and a pale, transparent-looking moon was already shining over the Forbidden Forest. All around Phil, students were discussing animatedly the possible means of arrival.

The Beauxbatons arrived first in a huge, horse drawn carriage that hurtled through the air. The Durmstrangs arrived in a tall, skeletal ship that rose silently yet magnificently out of the black lake, and all at once they were back in the hall preparing for the feast. Phil cast his eyes around the throng of people for Dan, and suddenly he was beside him.

“I can’t get to my table without going past those massive Durmstrangs, so I guess I’m sitting with you, if that’s okay.” Dan said in a small voice.

Phil beamed. “Of course! Quick, let’s sit down before it fills up. I’ll make sure Carrie sits on the other side of you.”

The Durmstrang students were pulling off their heavy furs and looking up at the starry black ceiling with expressions of interest. The Beauxbatons however clutched their powder blue robes around them and shivered, one girl eyeing Hagrid down a long and pointed nose with disgust.

A group of jovial Durmstrangs bounded over to the Hufflepuff table and settled noisily next to Carrie, immediately turning to pump the hands of the group and introduce themselves. One of the boys seemed not to have been content with the simple brown of his cloak and had sewn numerous other furs in many different colours into the fabric. He had a wide, slightly crooked smile and a surprisingly skinny frame under the heavy furs. “I’m Alex!” He grinned, shaking Carrie’s hand.

She smiled, warming to him immediately, and Dan shivered. He had been counting on this Carrie person to make friends with him while Phil was busy, and he was already starting to regret his decision.

Phil however seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to Dan and turned quickly to introduce him to the small group.

“Dan, this is Chris, Charlie, Tom, Carrie, Bryony and Fae. Everyone, this is Dan. We’ve been doing transfiguration together a lot and I thought I’d rescue him from the Slytherins for the evening.”

Six faces smiled warmly at Dan, each offering their ‘hello’s, and all at once Dan relaxed – a strange, comfortable sensation welling in his chest.

~

“Where’s Suzie?” Chris asked through a mouthful of potato.

“I don’t know,” Phil said, his expression clouding. “She was supposed to sit with us. I don’t know why she isn’t really, she has all year. Maybe she made friends with some of the Beauxbatons or something.”

Chris shrugged and returned to his steak, apparently uninterested in the conversations going on around him. Dan couldn’t help but notice that directly in Chris’s line of sight sat a tall, curly haired and incredibly attractive Ravenclaw who seemed to be holding at least 80% of Chris’s attention at any one time. Dan smirked.

After they had eaten their full, the group decided to give their new Durmstrang friends a quick tour of the castle before bed. On the way, they headed down into the dungeons to drop Dan off at his common room. A sweet, sticky smell floated from the potions classroom, along with a heavy pink cloud of smoke. Phil recognised the smell immediately. Apparently the seventh years had been brewing love potions all day, and they had been left to cool while the school attended the feast. The smell in the air was almost overwhelming and made Phil feel slightly giddy. In front of him, Carrie and the Durmstrang boy, Alex, were flirting outrageously. Chris was muttering what sounded suspiciously like romantic poetry under his breath, and Bryony was shying up to a tall, dark haired Durmstrang who had remained silent for most of the meal.

The conversation was loud and cheerful, so much so that Phil almost didn’t notice the two figures intertwined passionately and obliviously behind a stone pillar. A Beauxbatons boy, with floppy blonde hair and gloriously clear skin, had his mouth well and truly clamped onto Suzie Spinner. Phil stopped dead in his tracks, and all at once the group fell silent to turn and stare. Seemingly as one entity, their eyes travelled slowly from Suzie to Phil and he felt his heart drop from his mouth to his toes. His knees felt shaky and he didn’t want to open his mouth for fear of what would come out. In the silence, Dan’s hand slipped into his.

~

Phil didn’t cry that much. He had known for a long time that things were going downhill, but then again, Suzie had been his first and only crush. Mainly however he was appalled. Never would have he expected it to end like this; maybe she’d had too much punch, and maybe the fumes from the potions classroom had taken their toll, but for whatever reason she had lost her status as a ‘really nice girl’ and left Phil at a loss. Dan stayed with him even when Carrie had taken Alex to see the grounds and Chris had gone in search of Italian Ravenclaws. One by one, the others had offered their condolences and slipped off to bed until Dan and Phil remained, sat close together in an empty corridor.

“Maybe it was because you smell of soil all the time.” Dan tried to lighten the mood, and Phil laughed weakly.

“So did she though,” he mumbled. “Herbology buddies, remember?”

Dan rubbed Phil’s shoulder sympathetically. “Hey, if it makes you feel any better, that Beauxbatons dude was really ugly compared to you.”

Phil snorted. “I appreciate your attempts to console me, but I don’t think anyone would buy that one.”

“It’s true though,” Dan said defensively. “You’re much better than him. He was just so… generic. You’re special. You deserve a lot better than Suzie anyway. You need to find someone you have a lot in common with, someone you click with without having to work at it.”

Phil smiled. “It’s not even that though, it’s just the fact I wasn’t even worth a bit of human decency to her – regardless of our relationship. She didn’t even seem that ashamed when she spotted me. She just sort of, shrugged at me and dragged him away. Like, I matter that little to her. Even when she was pissed off with me, she always seemed to care. I just never expected that of her.”

“I know, I know.” Dan said soothingly. They had had the same conversation over and over, as is always the way, but Dan remained patient. Phil got the impression Dan would stay here all night with him if he needed.

~

Suzie, it transpired, was easy to hate. After several hours of comforting and pep talks from Dan, Phil had begun to see her faults. She would always be nagging at him, never happy with what he did, always wanting him to be better somehow than he could be. She was a whiner too, forever complaining about some ache or pain or terrible drama in her life. She looked down on Phil, her quiet, weirdo little tag along, and he had never really been happy with her. It was with a smile on his face that he returned to the dungeons for a second time to say goodbye to Dan. As they passed the smoke filled potions classroom, Phil suddenly had an idea.

“Wait here,” he said to Dan.

Quickly, he darted inside the classroom, making sure to close the door behind him so Dan couldn’t see what he was doing. He picked out the most successful looking potion and spooned a shimmering pink blob of amortentia out of the now still cauldron. He faltered for a moment, not sure if it was safe to touch, before using his wand to haphazardly siphon some of the liquid onto his robes. Thankfully, it dried clear and was almost unnoticeable within a few seconds. After a couple of liberal dollops, he decided the pungent aroma was sufficiently drowning and carefully returned the ladle. He took a generous sniff, enjoying the musky scent of broomsticks with a sweetening of honey. The warmness was there too. It seemed oddly familiar, maybe it reminded him of home, but that made no sense. Amortentia was supposed to smell of something he found attractive, but Phil was in too much of a hurry to put much thought into it. Chuckling with anticipation, he headed back out into the corridor where he immediately pounced on Dan, pulling him into a bear hug.

“What do I smell like now then, eh?” He grinned.

Dan laughed, pushing him away. “You smell like a pathetic attempt to cover up your stupid soil smell with chocolate. In fact, I think you’ve just ended up making the soil smell stronger.”


	4. The Three Broomsticks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Dan’s first trip to Hogsmeade. Chris is sexually frustrated, and Dan and Phil are 100% heterosexual

Two weeks before the end of term, the sky lightened suddenly to a dazzling, opaline white and the muddy grounds were covered in a glittering layer of frost. Inside the castle, there was a buzz of Christmas in the air. Professor Flitwick had already decorated the charms classroom with shimmering lights that turned out to be hundreds of real, fluttering fairies. Phil was in his dormitory wrapping up with a heavy cloak and several scarves for a trip to the greenhouses when his owl, Eric, shot into the room and slammed into the wall opposite, sliding comically down to land on the floor with a thud. Phil rolled his eyes, but sympathetically picked up the small owl and helped him smooth down his feathers and regain his pride. There was a small scroll tied to his leg, which Phil unfolded and sat down to read.

_Hey, I know we don’t really do this anymore but it’s the third year’s second trip to Hogsmeade this weekend. I didn’t go last time because I didn’t have anyone to go with, but I’d really like to see the village and do some Christmas shopping and stuff. Are you going? If you are, I don’t suppose I could tag along with you? It’s mainly because I’ve never been to a proper wizard village before but I’m sure the excitement will wear off quickly enough. Don’t worry if not, I totally understand._

_Dan_

Phil’s heart melted a little at the thought of Dan sitting alone in the Slytherin common room while everyone ran excitedly off to Hogsmeade with their friends and returned, pockets brimming with sweets. Phil didn’t think it would be a problem to bring Dan along with him. Although he didn’t show it, he knew Chris had become quite fond of Dan from the few times they’d sat together. When unlocked, Dan had a wicked sense of humour, and he and Chris got on like a house on fire. Phil didn’t have to worry about any of the others because they’d already agreed to split up for the purposes of Christmas shopping. He scribbled a reply to Dan and pulled on his thick, dragon hide gloves; donning an expression of grim determination as he set off to de-thorn the flesh-eating fuchsia.

~

Dan was trying very hard to contain his excitement and look cool as he set off with Phil and Chris towards the castle gates. Two of Dan’s fellow Slytherins walked passed, shooting Dan curious glances, and Phil noticed Dan straighten up a little taller and puff out his chest. Everyone knew Chris of course, the charismatic Gryffindor chaser who’d spurred his team to victory last year in the Quidditch cup.

“I reckon it’s going to start snowing.” Chris mused.

“You’re probably right.” Phil nodded.

“Yeah, I reckon so.” Dan agreed wisely.

Phil and Chris exchanged a grin. While his expression was straight, there was no hiding the childlike glee in Dan’s eyes.

The ground was crisp and the grass still brittle and crunching under their feet. They joined the throng of cloaked and chattering students on the cobbled road, and made their way down into the village of Hogsmeade.

~

Dan’s eyes were wide as he took in the picturesque clutter of shops and houses. He’d never seen a wizard’s home before, and he stared eagerly through the windows of the small cottages until he was glared at furiously by a robust washerwoman.

Chris led them in a beeline to Honeydukes, much to Dan’s dismay. He wasn’t done staring yet, but at the smell that wafted out of the brightly coloured sweet shop he soon forgot the village.

There were shelves upon shelves of the most succulent-looking sweets imaginable. Creamy chunks of nougat, shimmering pink squares of coconut ice, fat, honey-coloured toffees; hundreds of different kinds of chocolate in neat rows; there was a large barrel of Every Flavour Beans, and another of Fizzing Whizzbees, levitating sherbet balls that bounced off the walls and the ceiling, emitting a high pitched squeal. Along yet another wall were ‘Special Effects’ sweets: Droobles Best Blowing Gum (which filled a room with bluebell-coloured bubbles that refused to pop for days), black Pepper Imps (breathe fire for your friends!), Ice Mice (hear your teeth chatter and squeak!), peppermint creams shaped like toads (hop realistically in your stomach), fragile sugar spun quills and exploding bonbons.

Chris headed straight for the ‘Unusual Tastes’ section with a wicked grin, and Dan followed him curiously.

“What do you think, blood flavoured lollipops or Cockroach Cluster?” Chris asked conversationally.

“I’m leaning towards the snake breath popping candy,” Dan replied with a smile. “Who are you buying for?”

“Oh, these are for myself of course.” Chris replied, scooping up a pile of Owl Droppings and adopting a horrified expression.

Dan giggled. “I think Carrie would like these.” He said, pointing to a wicker basket full of ‘Crucified  Rabbits’.

Phil dragged him away with a tsk. “Honestly, you’re terrible, the pair of you. Come on Dan. I’m going to need your help. Then again, that might have been a good place to get something for Suzie.”

Dan winced. “Have you spoken to her at all? Since…”

“Nah,” Phil shook his head. “Nothing to say really. I think she tried to say sorry, the next Monday in herbology. She looked pretty guilty actually. I don’t think she would have done it if it hadn’t been for the butterbeer and the whole party atmosphere thing. Even so, she did it and that’s enough. I just ignored her.”

Dan nodded slowly. “What about that Beauxbatons boy? Are her and him a thing or?”

“Nope,” Phil said bitterly. “She was crying about it all week. He was apparently really embarrassed about it, because obviously he’s a lot older and like a delegate and of age and stuff, and he wouldn’t even look at her.”

 “Well, it serves her right,” Dan said bracingly. “Is there anything you’d recommend? I’m kinda tempted to try everything but I’m too poor.”

Phil seemed to take Dan’s request as a challenge and took him on a whistle-stop tour of the shop, pulling sweet things of shelves and into Dan’s arms, until he had enough different coloured shiny wrappers to wallpaper his dormitory. They dragged Chris out of the dark recesses of Banshee Tears and headed off to Christmas shop. Dan had great fun buying oven mitts that could bake 50 pies in an hour all by themselves for his mum, while Phil bought a cookbook that jumped up and clouted you round the head if you deviated too far from the recipe.

“Maybe I’ll get through a whole summer without food poisoning for once.” He muttered darkly.

When it came to presents for friends however, Dan was left at a loss. Phil and Chris were cheerfully picking out vibrantly patterned socks and elegant quills for all their friends, but the only friends Dan felt he could buy for were right there with him. He wondered if he could sneak a grow-your-own sickle tree (guaranteed to make you rich within the year) up to the till without Phil noticing, but all too soon they were heading out of the shops ad towards The Three Broomsticks.

As predicted, snow had started to fall on the quaint little village. The white flakes settled in Dan’s hair and melted on his lashes, making him smile quietly. Phil watched him, and flashed him a grin of his own – sticking out his tongue to catch the first flakes before they hit the ground. The air was crisp and the wind chill, so the warmth of the pub was welcome. Opening the doors was like unleashing a bear hug that pulled them in out of the cold. The buzz of merry chatter and clanking glasses followed them through to a small table by the window, where they could watch the snow fall.

“Have you ever tried butterbeer?” Phil asked.

“No,” Dan replied. “Is it actual beer though? Because I’m not eighteen yet so I don’t think I can…”

“You come of age at seventeen, remember? Anyway, it’s like the tiniest amount of alcohol. You’d have to drown yourself in it for it to have any effect. You’re allowed to drink it any age, the most you’re going to feel is a tingle.”

The butterbeer was delicious and seemed to heat Dan from the inside. Sure enough, a warm tingling spread to his fingers and he sat back, a smile on his face. A group of rowdy warlocks sat on one side of them, two elderly wizards knocking back firewhisky like it was water on the other. The bar was packed with jostling bodies and laughter, and from where they sat they had a view of everyone who came in and out.

“Phil tells me you fly.” Chris said to Dan.

Dan blushed and stammered a little. “Yeah, just for fun though. I’m not very good.”

“Have you ever tried out for your team?”

“No. My broom’s not good enough anyway.” Dan replied.

“You can use a school one, half our team does. Why don’t you? I bet you’re good. You have that look about you. Lightweight but agile.” Chris pressed.

Dan squirmed a little in his seat. “I’m really not. I’m too lanky. I don’t think I’d be much good.”

“Hey, you’re the same height as me and I do okay at it. What position do you play?”

Dan reddened a little. “Well, normally I play seeker because I’m so bad at everything else.”

“You know, I thought that the moment I met you.” Chris said earnestly.

Phil rolled his eyes. “You’re ridiculous you are,” He said to Chris. “There’s no way you knew that. Boys and their quidditch. You don’t hear the girl players going on and on about it like this.”

“Hey, they’re just as passionate as we are. They’re just more ashamed about it.” Chris argued.

“No, they’re more considerate. They know when to shut up.” Phil teased.

Chris put up a hand to stop Phil and closed his eyes briefly. “I could sit and argue the subtle complexities of quidditch with you all day Phil Lester, but a certain Mr Liguori has just entered the premises.”

Sure enough, PJ and a group of his friends had ducked through the low door and were making their way up to the bar. Chris made no attempt to be subtle as he turned his chair around so as to get a better look.

“You two talk amongst yourselves and I’ll pretend like I’m listening.” He winked.

Phil shook his head in disbelief. “Why don’t you just talk to him?”

“Ahh, Phil. If only life were that simple.” Chris said wistfully.

Exasperated, Phil turned back to Dan.

“So. What do you want for Christmas?”

“Oh no, I don’t want anything.” Said Dan, red faced.

“But I want to get you something. I really like giving presents, it’s mean of you not to let me.” Phil grinned.

“I, er, I really don’t know Phil. What do you want?” Dan tried to steer the conversation away from himself.

Phil considered for a moment. “I’d like a new scarf,” he decided. “See, that wasn’t so hard was it? Your turn.”

Dan searched desperately for an idea. “There’s nothing I want, seriously. Just get me sweets or something.”

Phil raised an eyebrow. “I think you’ve bought enough sweets today. Something better.”

“ _Phil_.” Dan complained.

“ _Dan_.” Phil mimicked.

“Can you not just surprise me?”

Phil sighed dramatically. “Fine. I will do my best. You’re a pain you are. I don’t know why I’m friends with you.”

“But you are, and that’s a good enough present for me.” Dan sniggered.

Chris turned round suddenly and interjected with a laugh. “Will you two just get engaged already? You’re being painfully obvious.”

Dan and Phil turned several shades of crimson simultaneously. “Chris. For goodness sake. Don’t be stupid.” Phil scolded.

Chris just raised an eyebrow. “Touchy.” He winked, and turned back to PJ.

Phil sighed. “You’re ridiculous,” he muttered. “Dan, why don’t you go get more drinks? See if you can brush past PJ multiple times and make Chris jealous.”

Chris tutted as he moved in to let Dan past. “You can laugh all you like, but you know I’m right.”

“No, you’re just being annoying. As usual. You see filth in everything. I don’t know why I’m friends with you.” Phil complained.

“You’re hardly Mr innocent,” Chris grinned.

Dan was out of earshot now, and Phil leaned forwards with a frown. “Seriously though Chris, stop it. You’re making Dan feel awkward. I know to you everyone is bi until proven otherwise, but Dan’s just a kid. He’s only just met us and you can tell he’s pretty nervous. Don’t mess with him, okay?”

“Very protective over your little friend.” Chris’s grin widened.

Phil groaned. “Chris, please. Grow up a bit. We’re both 100% heterosexual. I just had a girlfriend!”

“I’ve had four, and look at me now.” Chris sniggered, staring hungrily up at the bar.

The kitchen door opened and a barmaid bustled out with a heaped tray of food. Before the door could close behind her, a small, calico kitten slipped out and into the bar with a mewl. PJ was the first to spot her cries for attention, and he bent down to run his fingers through her soft fur – his already tight jeans stretching impossibly tighter over the beautiful curve of his behind.

“Good moooorning PJ.” Chris whistled. Almost immediately, he pulled a cushion not so surreptitiously on to his lap and grinned.

Phil laughed. “Oh my god. You need to get laid.”

“You’re telling me. Oi! Philip,  _you_  need to control your boy.”

Sure enough, Dan had seen the kitten as well and wandered over, where he had apparently struck up a conversation with PJ. His arm brushed against PJ as he too bent down to stroke the cat.

A moment later, Phil’s face reddened and he reached for a cushion. “It’s just really bad timing. Shut up.” He muttered as Chris exploded into laughter.

“I can’t wait till Dan gets back here.” Chris chortled.

“Oh god, please don’t,” Phil moaned. “Please, seriously, just grow up a bit. Please Chris.”

Chris was still chuckling when Dan returned with three tall glasses brimming with butterbeer.

Phil spoke immediately, determined to get in before Chris did. “So. I saw you having a nice chat with PJ. I really hope you’re engaged now or something.”

Dan laughed, turning to Chris with a smile. “I see why you like him. He’s  _dreamy_.” He teased.

Chris laughed, raising his eyes at Phil. “Keep your hands off my Italian. Incidentally, I didn’t know you swung that way. Welcome to the club.”

“I no, no I don’t – I’m not,” Dan backtracked quickly. “I was just messing with you.” He sat down abruptly and took a large gulp of butterbeer. The bubbles shot straight up his nose and he choked, narrowly avoiding spraying his friends with drink.

Chris tried valiantly to hide his laughter behind a menu. Dan coughed, red faced, and shrank down into his chair.

“So, um, Dan,” Phil said, ignoring Chris, “What did PJ say? You were practically holding hands at one point, you’re going to need to describe it all in detail for Chris here.”

“He smells like heaven and his skin is softer than clouds.” Dan grinned at Chris.

This had the desired effect and Chris shut up immediately, staring wistfully over at the table of Ravenclaws PJ had returned to.

“Oh Peej,” He sighed. “Why must you taunt me so.”

PJ was sweeping his hair out of his face, almost in slow motion, his green eyes sparkling with laughter.

Dan sniggered, and Phil relaxed.

“Oi, pass me the other menu will you? I need double protection for this angle.” Chris continued.

Dan and Phil reached for the menu in the same moment, their hands colliding in the middle of the table. They jerked backwards, as if shocked, stumbling over apologies. Phil pushed his hair awkwardly out of his eyes, his cheeks pink. There was an awkward silence, during Dan shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he struggled to pull his cloak back around him in the act of a yawn. As the conversation continued, he shuffled again, tugging desperately to hide the small bulge in his jeans.

“Er, Chris,” He said, after a few minutes. “Where’d you get that cushion? This chair’s really hard.” His attempt at a conversational tone was dismal, and Chris and Phil fell silent as their mouths dropped open in identical expressions of realisation.

Dan was both horrified and oblivious as his cheeks burned and he squirmed under their stares.

“Well, would you look at that,” Chris said, after one of the longest silences Dan had ever endured. “The Three Broomsticks.”


	5. Fanged Roses and Levitating Pansies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dan and Phil share a friendly bubble bath.

It seemed to Phil that Dan had been avoiding him ever since the incident in The Three Broomsticks. Whenever he spotted Dan in the corridors he appeared to suddenly forget something and perform an about turn, before speeding off in the opposite direction. In truth, Phil wasn’t completely unhappy about this – his face burned whenever he recognised that familiar head protruding awkwardly a good few inches above the crowd of third years. Chris, of course, still hadn’t shut up about it.

“Mock me all you like,” he’d said, after Phil had teased him for following PJ through the corridors for half an hour during break, “But you got excited over a thirteen year old.”

“He’s fourteen!” Phil had complained, but with a hint of doubt in his voice. Dan looked older - he could easily have passed for fifteen – but Chris was right, the numbers just didn’t add up.

~

“I saw your beaux,” Chris said one wintry morning over a glass of pumpkin juice. “He was sitting on his own in the corridor looking sad.”

Phil sighed. “Why didn’t you say hi?”

“I was in a hurry, PJ was walking too quickly for me to stop.”

“You know, you could get arrested for that. Stalking.” Phil waggled his finger at Chris.

“I call it ‘following adoringly’.” Chris replied with a grin.

Phil shook his head and laughed. “That’s incredibly creepy. How he hasn’t noticed yet is beyond me.”

“Anyway, stop changing the subject. Have you two had a lovers tiff? Why weren’t you in the library yesterday, helping him with transfiguration?” Chris asked.

Phil sighed again, his shoulders slumping. “It’s embarrassing isn’t it? After what happened at the weekend, neither of us wants to be the first person to have to talk to the other after that. I don’t know what I’d say without it being cripplingly awkward.”

Chris stroked an imaginary beard. “Hmm,” he mused. “Tricky situation. Have you considered prayer?”

Phil hit Chris on the arm with his gloves. “Thanks. Seriously though. I was going to write to him, like we do sometimes, but I figured that would highlight even more how weird things are now.”

“You two are so romantic and you don’t even realise it. I mean, come on. You were basically writing love letters to each other for months.”

“We’re just friends,” Phil said, exasperated. “We just talked about bands and school and stuff. Stop being so annoying, I’ll go ask Carrie.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll help – I promise. You need a premise for meeting up that gives you something to do so it’s not awkward and you can keep the subject away from foggy patches. You know, like your raging homosexual love for each other.” Chris winked.

“ _Chris._ ” Phil moaned.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out. How about taking him somewhere romantic?”

“Chris.”

“A stroll in the forest under the moon?”

Phil’s face reddened a little, and he didn’t say anything.

“Teach him how to make a love potion and then, intoxicated by the fumes, fall on each other like animals?” Chris continued, clearly enjoying himself.

Phil’s cheeks glowed brilliant pink.

“You’ve already done the love letters and the trip to Picturesque Local Village, how about you show him some of your hobbies? Roll about in the mud a bit?”

“Actually, that’s quite a good idea,” Phil said, ignoring Chris’s chuckles. “I could ask him if he’ll help me in the greenhouses or something.”

“Perfect,” Chris’s grin widened. “I suggest roses.”

Phil ignored him, tucking into his toast.

~

“Remind me why I’m here again?” Dan muttered, pulling his scarf up to his chin as they trudged shivering through the snowy grounds.

“Greenhouse four is for students to grow whatever we want, within safety rules, so obviously our stuff doesn’t get cared for. Sometimes it takes more than one person, and this is an emergency. Also I get to persuade you how cool plants are.” Phil grinned.

“Yeah… good luck with that.”

It took both of them to pull open the glass door, the frost having frozen it shut. Inside however was warm and humid, a tropical climate maintained by a few simple spells which Phil added to automatically as he closed the door behind him.

“Everyone has to help each visit, the charms degrade after all and that would be awful for all the plants here, not just our own.” Phil explained.

“That reminds me actually, can you go over that with me at some point? Like, why spells fall apart after a while? It’s in the test on Friday and I really haven’t got a clue, I think I pulled out the chapter from my book to clean my broom with.”

Phil chuckled. “Second law of thermodynamics. Entropy never decreases and the universe tends to disorder.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Dan snorted.

“Things are always getting more disordered, like cliffs eroding and spells breaking down. That’s because there are a million billion ways you can rearrange the grains in a pile of sound without changing the overall structure of the sand pile. But there’s very few ways you can rearrange the parts of a cliff without it not being a cliff anymore. The probability is therefore that it’s more likely for it to end up as a sand pile than as a cliff.” Phil carefully snapped a few small branches off a plant, before moving onto the next and frowning. “Like, the wind could just pick up the sand and put it down in exactly the shape of a cliff – it’s perfectly possible, but it’s never going to happen. Over time, the cliff’s going to break down. So things get more disordered – like, over the whole universe. And energy gets more spread out. The spell breaks down, and the energy disperses and is transferred into all different forms - but that’s the first law.”

Dan stared at him blankly. “What the hell. I’m like a hundred percent sure that isn’t what it said in the chapter. It was ‘Gibbs’ Free Magic’. Not freaking ‘thermodynamics.’ That sounds like a disease.”

“See, that’s weird. I though you would have heard of entropy and stuff, being from the muggle world. It’s actually the same thing.” Phil smiled at Dan through the leaves of a hanging vine that was attempting to slowly sneak its long tendrils around Dan’s neck. “I was just giving you the actual version, rather than the weird simple one he told all the wizards because they couldn’t get their heads round it and refused to believe it – even though he proved it in loads of different ways. He was an amazing wizard, Willard Gibbs. But most of the incredible magic he did was lost because no one else could understand it. Well, it was more that they refused to listen. He ended up telling the muggles instead and they were fine with it, although obviously he had to brush over the magic stuff. He called it ‘dark matter’ or something. It’s funny, we look down on them so much but we’re the ones still using quills and candles and fires and stuff.”

Dan was watching Phil talk, his mouth hanging open “How do you just know so much stuff,” he muttered, shaking his head, but there was a hint of awe in his tone. After a moment of watching him work, he spoke again. “You’re right, though. It took me ages to get the hang of using a quill and it seemed so stupid when I had a biro in my pocket.”

Phil grinned. “My Dad practices progressive wizardry. A lot of people think he’s mental, but he’s getting there I reckon. He studies muggle sciences a lot and he’s enrolled in a muggle university and everything.”

“That’s really cool.”

“What do your parents do?”

“They’re teachers. My dad teaches physics at a uni actually, wouldn’t it be so funny if he taught your dad?” Dan laughed.

“Oh my god that’s amazing,” Phil said. “And your dad knows about magic because of you, they could literally team up and take over the world.”

“It would either be incredible or result in the world being blown up.”

Phil sniggered. “Probably the latter, knowing my Dad. Anyway. Here’s what I need help with.”

Most of that long speech had been to ensure they slipped back into conversation without any awkwardness, and Phil was pretty sure Dan had realised his ploy and encouraged it. Now though, Phil was fairly confident that they were back in comfortable territory, The Three Broomsticks locked away somewhere dark in the back of their minds.

They had reached the far end of the greenhouse. Large rays of violet light were being emitted by a pulsating blue flower, but it wasn’t this Phil was interested in. He had his head tilted to the ceiling, where a hundred tiny pansies fluttered and bounced off the glass with colourful petal wings.

“Right…” Dan said, dubiously. “What are we supposed to do with them?”

“Nothing too complicated, just catch them.” Phil said with a grin that suggested it was going to be anything but easy.

“Can’t you just use magic or something?”

“What ‘magic’ do you suggest?” Phil sniggered.

“Er, summoning spell?”

“Good idea,” Phil said, turning to the pansies. “Acio!”

Nothing happened.

“Oh yeah, I forgot. They’re kinda ‘magic’ too. We’re going to have to use our hands.”

Dan groaned.

“Don’t worry, they’re only levitating pansies. They’re perfectly sweet and harmless.”

“OW!”

~

After the pansies, Phil watched and laughed at Dan’s pathetic attempts to prune a fanged white rose. Just as he seemed to be getting the hang of it, the flower took a vicious swipe at the exposed flesh above the top of Dan’s gloves. Red blood spurted forth, which the flower lapped up eagerly, and Phil hurried forwards with a yelp.

“Are you okay? Don’t worry, it’s only a little scratch and these ones aren’t poisonous. Well, not very. You’ll be fine I promise. I can probably fix it actually it’s only shallow. Come here.” Phil’s voice was thick with concern, and he held Dan close as he carefully siphoned away the blood and closed the small wound. Dan smelled like honey. His hair had a woody tang to it, and there was something else too – something warm. Phil closed his eyes briefly, shivering.

“There,” he said gently. “How does it feel?”

“Fine actually,” Dan said, surprised. “How the hell are you so clever? Shouldn’t you have been in Ravenclaw or something?”

Phil laughed. “No, definitely not. I’m a Hufflepuff through and through. My Dad likes to learn. He gets really bored and restless when he’s not learning a new skill and I guess it’s rubbed off on me. We always ended up getting roped in, because when he learns something he finds really exciting he wants to share it.”

Dan nodded. “Okay, mild catastrophe over. What’s next, oh genius healer Phil?”

~

They left the greenhouse covered in mud and smelling strongly of manure, having finished by fertilizing a particularly violent snapdragon who responded by flinging thestral dung all over the greenhouse and anyone who had the audacity to stand too close to it. Back at the castle, they ran into Chris heading down towards the Great Hall.

“Good afternoon. You two smell awful. Philip, have you got shit in your hair again?”

“Most probably. It was an eventful trip, but I’ve had worse. Obviously, we’re going to go take a shower now.”

“What, together?” Chris quipped quickly.

Phil groaned. “No. Funnily enough.”

Something flashed past Chris’s eyes and he grinned suddenly, before quickly adopting a straight face again. “You don’t want to go to the bathrooms, seriously – it’s chock a block. There’s first years everywhere, I think they decided to play quidditch on the ground since the pitch is closed. Anyway, they’re all covered in mud and er, whipping each other with towels and stuff. You wouldn’t get one cubicle, let alone two.”

“Are you sure?” Phil frowned.

“Positive. Trust me, you want to stay away. I reckon the second floor bathrooms are just as bad. Probably better to use the prefects’, there’ll be no one there. Password’s Pine Fresh till next Sunday.” Chris said helpfully.

Phil’s eyes narrowed.

“But neither of us are prefects,” Dan said, surprised. “Don’t you need a password?”

“Carrie’s a prefect, we got it out of her. If you haven’t been yet it’s worth the trip. Go on Phil, I really do mean it when I say it’s like Dante’s bloody Inferno in there. I couldn’t get a patch of floor to piss on.” Chris grinned.

Phil winced. “Okay, cheers for the heads up. I guess I’ll show Dan the prefect’s bathroom then huh. He’s right though, it’s pretty cool.” He said, turning to Dan.

“Okie doke, I’ll leave you fellas to it then. Adios!” Chris left them with a chuckle, and there was a moment of silence before Phil set off again towards the fifth floor.

“Where is it?” Dan asked curiously.

“Behind the fourth door to the left of the statue of Boris the Bewildered.” Phil replied.

“Right.”

“It’s almost always empty which is nice, but when you do have company it’s the type that makes you feel incredibly inadequate - usually someone like Cedric Diggory, flashing his abs and doing pull ups on the arches.”

Dan pretended to wretch.

~

On one wall stood a row of plain stalls with sinks opposite. In front of them however was a large, swimming-pool-like bathtub sunk into the floor. Hundreds of taps, each with a different jewel set into the handle, surrounded the tub, and Dan let out a low whistle.

“That’s ridiculous. You could do lengths in that.” He stared around him again, then faltered. “Are there not… aren’t there any showers?”

“No…” Phil blushed. “That’s why I didn’t suggest here straight away. It’s alright though – look, I’ll show you.” He quickly turned a few taps and Dan watched amazed as jets of different coloured bubbles poured fourth amidst the water. Giggling, he joined Phil in running round the length of the tub turning them all on until a rainbow of bubbles and froth churned in the centre of the steamy water. The tub filled remarkably quickly given its size, and all too soon they were running round frantically once more turning the taps off again before it overflowed.

The noise of the running water had drowned their laughter, but as Dan turned the last tap it was suddenly very silent.

Phil cleared his throat. “So uh, yeah, there’s a lot of bubbles so it’s alright. I’ll, er, turn round.”

They were standing on opposite sides of the pool, with their backs to each other, awkwardly fumbling with their robes as quickly as possible. Dan was first to slip into the warm water, and as he turned around he caught a glance of Phil’s pale (and very naked) body before whipping back round again with a horrified gasp, his cheeks burning.

He waited until he was quite sure he’d heard the splash of Phil getting into the bath before turning back around.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Phil grinned.

There was a large bubble balanced perfectly on Phil’s nose, and Dan couldn’t help but giggle – plunging his head underwater and swimming shark-like to pop up again next to Phil.

“Let me fix that for you.” He grinned, scooping up a handful of pink bubbles and carefully constructing a beard for Phil that would have put Dumbledore to shame.

“How do I look?” Phil asked, pretending to pose.

“Like a slightly feminine Father Christmas.”

“Hey, just because it’s pink doesn’t mean it’s feminine. I totally rock pink.” Phil protested.

“Oh yes,” Dan nodded wisely. “You look positively er, manly.”

Phil raised a palm full of bubbles and blew, hard, shooting them into Dan’s face and making him splutter.

“Oi! Do you really wanna start this?!”

In response, Phil threw another armful of bubbles onto Dan’s head.

“Right. You asked for it.”

“Arrghh Dan!” Phil spluttered as Dan launched himself on top of Phil, plunging them both underwater in a tangle of limbs.

They resurfaced, spluttering, and dangerously close to one another. Phil seized the opportunity to pull great mountains of bubbles into a multi-coloured pyramid balanced ridiculously on top of Dan’s head.

Dan pouted, and Phil exploded into laughter that sent more bubbles flying. In retaliation, Dan painted blue bubble eyebrows onto Phil with a cackle of glee as Phil raised and lowered them, making the bubbles wobble and bounce.

They played in the rainbow for half an hour. Having seriously depleted the supply of bubbles, they returned shivering to a blue stoned tap and huddled close to the warm jet of water.

Dan’s teeth chattered as he spoke. “This one’s my favourite. It smells like chocolate, even though it’s blue. It’s weird. You smell kinda like chocolate sometimes. I get why now though, that crazy chocolate tree you’ve got going on in the greenhouse. That was delicious, but incredibly weird.”

Phil grinned. “That’s one of my own, I bred it and added a little spell. It took several attempts though, the first ones tasted like vomit. Literal vomit. I’m still not exactly sure how that happened.”

“Ew,” Dan said, wrinkling his nose.

“Exactly,” Phil shuddered.

Dan blew gently, carving a tunnel in the bubbles that were spilling out in front of them. He giggled to himself, and Phil smiled fondly at the light in his eyes. Dan’s hair was damp and thick with bubbles. It stuck to his bronzed skin, falling in front of his face. His shoulders were out of the water. They glistened with moisture, shadows falling in the soft crevices of his collar bones and shoulder blades. The tendons in his neck rippled and lean muscles were just visible as he moved. Phil cursed silently to himself.

Dan was building a castle in the bubbles. Tall turrets wobbled and bobbed in the water, and tunnels and doors caved in just as quickly as Dan could carve them. Phil watched the crease between his brows as he worked, and the concentration in his eyes. Dan bit his lip too, when he was concentrating. It made his cheek dimple. Phil closed his eyes briefly, striking out suddenly towards the other side of the bath tub. He turned onto his back to float backwards to Dan, realising all too late that too many of the bubbles had popped now and he was well and truly above the water. He spluttered and coughed as he tried to turn over and ended up thrashing red faced in the water until his toes found the bottom.

Dan’s eyes were wide and his jaw might as well have been on the bottom of the pool.

Quickly, he pulled his gaze away from Phil and attempted to go back to castle building, his cheeks glowing.

“Er, sorry. Accident.” Phil muttered.

“What? I didn’t see anything.” Dan coughed slightly.

“Ahem.”

Phil turned determinedly to Dan’s castle. “That’s pretty. It’s all colour coded. You can make it float around.”

Phil made to scoop up the castle and send it bobbing to the other end of the pool, but Dan yelped and snatched the pile of bubbles away from him, pulling them back into his chest with a flush in his cheeks. The movement dislodged one of Dan’s earrings, and it fell into the water with a plop and sank.

“I’ve got it.” Phil said, diving quickly under the water, his eyes open and searching.

“No, don’t do that!” Dan yelped, but it was too late. Phil was already on his way back up, and had seen what Dan was hiding under the bubble pile.

He broke the surface with cheeks many shades darker than the bubbles surrounding them.

“Not again.” Dan moaned.

They turned away from each other, staring determinedly at the opposite walls, breathing heavily.

“Bad timing.” Phil said.

“Yeah,” Dan agreed.

“Dan?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you actually fourteen?”

“Yeah. I, er, redid my second year. Don’t laugh at me. It wasn’t because I’m stupid or anything.”

“I’m not laughing. So you’ll be fifteen this year? That makes it slightly better. Not that – not about this, I mean, just in case it was…”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. Oh, here’s your earring by the way.” Phil turned back around and awkwardly handed Dan the small stud.

Dan’s hands were wet and he fumbled trying to get it back in. After a moment of watching him struggle, Phil took Dan’s hands gently and slipped the earring back in.

Dan turned slowly to face him. Phil seemed to have forgotten to let go of Dan’s hand, and it was very warm in his.

Phil’s eyes were blue, and Dan’s were brown. That was about as much as either of them were thinking as they leaned in to press their lips together.

Dan tasted like soap, and a few bubbles went up Phil’s nose, making him cough. They pulled away quickly, leaning against the stone walls on either side of their favourite blue tap.

“Okay.” Dan said.

“Yeah. Um, I’m kinda stumped now.” Phil mumbled.

“Yeah. Me too. Listen, I’m not gay. I’m really not. Like I don’t want to go anywhere near another guy’s dick thanks very much.”

They blushed together as they realised what Dan’s had just said and the proximity of their naked bodies.

“You know what I mean though…” Dan muttered.

“Yeah, I’m the same,” Phil reassured. “Like, I’ve never once thought about… that. You know? I don’t know it’s just with you… it’s different though. It doesn’t feel like I felt towards Suzie. I don’t think we’re gay or anything. This is just something weird. Probably hormones.”

“Yeah,” Dan agreed. “Probably hormones.”

“Yeah.”

“Um, Phil?”

“Yeah?”

“Now we know it’s just hormones and stuff… can we do it again?”

~

They had let much of the water out so that they could sit, both slightly wrinkled now, their torsos out of the water. Dan was nestled between Phil’s thighs, his back pressed against Phil’s front. His fingers trailed across Phil’s forearm absentmindedly. In the silence, Dan was sure he could hear Phil’s heartbeat.

~

They were interrupted half an hour later by a scrawny fourth year carrying a large, golden egg. He yelped when he saw them, turning and fleeing back out of the door.

After much sniggering, they took it as a cue to get out – both resembling particularly shrivelled raisins. They dried off close together, shivering in the cold.

“Dan…” Phil said as he pulled on a sock. “While the hormones and stuff are still around, do you think we should just… go with it? I mean, like be together? A bit? Nothing more than kissing or anything because we’re not gay. Well, maybe we’re bi. I don’t really know anymore. But just like, very affectionate friends? That’s what it feels like, I think.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”


	6. The Yule Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan's first Christmas at Hogwarts

“So?” Chris asked, grabbing Phil’s robes as he attempted to walk past Chris in the corridor.

Phil blanched. “What?”

“How was your romantic gardening trip with Dan? Come to think of it, how did you cope showering in the cubicle next to him? You struggle containing yourself when you’re both clothed so I imagine it was pitiful.” Chris grinned, pulling Phil into step beside him as they walked to charms.

“What are you talking about?” Phil said irritably. “You made us use the prefects’ bathroom, remember?”

“Yeah, but I’m assuming you used the showers rather than that big ol’ romantic bathtub.” Chris laughed.

“What showers?!” Phil said, his voice raising an octave.

Chris’s eyebrows shot up into his forehead. “Oh my god.” His expression was incredulous. “Did you share a bubble bath with Daniel Howell?  _Thirteen_  year old Daniel Howell?”

“ _What showers_?” Phil insisted. “And he’s fourteen, he told me. He redid a year so he’ll be fifteen in June, actually.”

“The showers round the corner,” Chris’s face was alight with delight, a huge grin across his face. “You did didn’t you. Please tell me you were naked as well. Oh my  _god_.”

“Well how else would we take a bath?!” Phil said defensively, his cheeks burning.

“Oh, I don’t know. One at a time maybe? Or you know, you could have kept your boxers on or got some swimming trunks or something. Jesus Christ Phil,” Chris shook his head in gleeful disbelief. “What happened? You’re going to have to tell me everything.”

“Nothing happened,” Phil muttered, “We’re not gay, we just shared a bath because we didn’t see the showers.”

“Right.”

“I hate you. This is all your fault, I bet there weren’t even any first years in the bathrooms.”

“Course not. But that’s what friends are for. Now, I’m going to ask you again, and this time you’re going to tell me the truth. I can tell when you’re lying, Philip.” Chris grabbed Phil’s face, staring intently into his eyes for a moment and scrutinizing. Suddenly, he whooped. “You did didn’t you! I knew it! You and Dan Howell. You know Phil, I’d always known you were a little bit gay.”

“I’m not gay,” Phil moaned. “Nor’s Dan. We just kissed. That’s all I swear. It was more, experimental really, than anything else. We’re just friends. Messing about. Very affectionate friends.” Phil couldn’t help but snigger a bit at the memory.

Chris’s face looked like he’d just been told Christmas was coming early. “This is the best thing I’ve heard all year. My baby Phil is gayer than even I, and he’s got some cute little toyboy to give him sensual bubble bath massages. I can’t wait to tell  _everyone_.”

“No!” Phil yelped. “Don’t you dare. Please Chris, don’t do that, I think I’d die. We’re  _not_ gay. We’ve both agreed. We, well, if you must know, we’ve decided to be sort of together until it wears off. Not as boyfriends or anything. Just like cuddly friends because neither of us have ever felt like this, it’s not actual attraction or anything. It’s probably just hormones…”

“Phil,”

“And like, we both know it’s not like that. I mean it doesn’t feel anything like it did with Suzie…”

“Phil,”

“Like I know what attraction feels like, this is completely different I swear…”

“ _Phil_ ,”

“Me and Dan, we’re just being friendly. We don’t see each other much so we’re just making the most of the time we have and not worrying too much about labels you know?”

“Phil.”

“What?”

“You _gaaaay_.”

“I’m not gay!”

“You gay as  _hell_.”

“Chris! Have you been listening to anything I’ve said?”

“I’ve been listening, and honey you gaaaaaaay.” Chris sung.

“ _Chris._ ” Phil groaned.

“Listen up sonny, I’m about to give you some brotherly best friend advice.” Chris grinned, pulling Phil to an abrupt stop and into a broom cupboard. Quickly, he lit his wand and closed the door behind them before anyone noticed. It smelled faintly of cleaning polish, and the air was musty.

Chris brushed a cobweb out of his hair and pointed his wand at Phil, illuminating his wide eyes. “We both know I’ve had a lot more experience in the love department, so unclog your ears and open your mind for a moment,” The mocking tone had left his voice. “To prove I was listening, here are some choice quotes: ‘none of us have ever felt like this’ and ‘it doesn’t feel anything like it did with Suzie’. May I remind you that you were not happy with Suzie. That was not a happy or healthy relationship, and it ended badly, yet somehow you didn’t seem too upset. That wasn’t love. That wasn’t even attraction I don’t think, I mean, you had to ask  _us_  if she was pretty or not. Your feelings for Daniel must be very strong, judging by the extent of your excitement and the incredible speed. Trust me, I’ve been in love with PJ Liguori for three years now. I know what it feels like. You may be bisexual, but you’re not straight. The feelings you have for Dan are real – don’t devalue them by pretending they don’t matter. I’ve never seen two people fall for each other so quickly and so absolutely before, you’ve got something special, and you need to go into it knowing that so that you can both get the absolute most out of it because love sucks most of the time, and you’ve got lucky.”

Phil was silent for a moment, shocked at the intensity of Chris’s gaze.

“Are, are you sure?” He asked, his voice faltering.

“Positive. You have feelings for Dan, and he shares them. Acknowledge it. Accept it. Embrace the homosexuality.” Chris’s familiar grin returned to his face.

“Okay. Wow. Maybe you’re right. I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. What do I do now?” Phil’s eyes were wide and slightly scared, and all of a sudden Chris pulled him into an embrace.

“I’m really happy for you okay,” Chris said, his voice gruff. “You need to talk to him. You need to ask him out properly. And then you need to send a bit of your luck my way, because really you’ve had far too much.”

Phil felt almost as if he should be tearing up. “Wow. This is emotional.”

“Yep,” Chris said, sniffing dramatically. “That’s enough serious Chris for now. So, you’ve seen him naked now huh. How big is his dick?”

“ _Chris_.”

~

Christmas day dawned bright and clear, a fresh layer of snow settled on the grounds. A happy morning was spent eating reindeer shaped pancakes and exchanging presents. Dan had spent many hours learning a knitting spell, and had knitted Phil a long (if slightly lumpy in places) blue and green scarf, with tiny Christmas baubles at each end instead of tassels that jingled the tune of Jingle Bells as he walked. Dan had eventually given in and asked Phil for a wizards chess set but Phil, never content with normal, had bought him an ‘Animals of the Forest’ set – complete with unicorn knights and a long-haired mermaid queen.

Phil had helped Dan pick out simple things like sweets and quills for the rest of their group, and these were returned on the most part, but Chris had excelled himself and presented the new couple with a joint present: a huge box of Every Flavour Condoms.

Still recoiling in horror (and blanching slightly at the thought of vomit flavoured condoms), the large group set off cheerfully down to the Great Hall for Christmas lunch. Dan had knitted Chris a scarf too, almost blindingly hot pink, which he wore with pride and an occasional snigger. Dan had the feeling this was going to be the best Christmas he’d ever had. His parents had sounded upset when he’d told them he was staying, but he knew it would be a relief as they were planning to visit family in Wales - which they would have had to cut short to bring him back to Hogwarts in time for the start of term. Phil’s parents were in the North Pole studying magnetic fields and the Northern Lights that had baffled muggles for years, while Chris’s large family had all headed off to sunny Spain without him – much to his disgust. Carrie and Charlie had stayed too, and together they took their place on the one, huge table that had been pushed together in honour of the occasion.

A hundred, fat, roast turkeys, mountains of roast and boiled potatoes platters of fat chipolatas, tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich, gravy and cranberry sauce – and stacks of wizard crackers every few inches along the table. Phil pulled a cracker with Chris and it went off with a blast, engulfing them in a cloud of blue smoke, while from the inside exploded a rear-admirals hat and several live, white mice. Up on the High Table, Dumbledore had swapped his pointed wizard’s hat for a flowered bonnet and was chuckling merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just read to him.

Flaming Christmas puddings followed the turkey, Phil nearly broke his teeth on a silver sickle embedded in his slice. Dan watched Hagrid getting redder and redder in the face as he called for more wine, before finally kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek who, to Dan’s amazement, giggled and blushed, her top had lop-sided.

When Dan and Phil finally left the table, they were laden down with a stack of things out of the crackers, including a pack of luminous balloons, a grow-your-own-warts kit and a brand new pointed wizard’s hat that Dan absolutely did not trust to put on his head - mainly due to the strange blue smoke wafting from the tip with a strong smell of eggs. The white mice had disappeared, and Dan had a nasty feeling they were going to end up as Mrs Norris’ Christmas dinner.

The small group spent a happy afternoon having a furious snowball fight in the grounds. Then, cold, wet and gasping for breath, they returned to the crackling fire in the Hufflepuff common room. Full of turkey and cake however it wasn’t long before they had drifted sleepily one by one back to their dormitories to nap before the ball. Dan lingered longest, curled up on the sofa in front of the fire with Phil.

“Mm too sleepy to go back. I’m gonna sleep here. Night night.”

Phil chuckled, running his fingers gently through Dan’s tangled, still damp hair. They were cuddled close together, Dan nestled comfortably against Phil’s chest, Phil’s legs entwined in Dan’s.

“You’ll get in trouble if you stay here,” Phil said softly, his breath warm on Dan’s neck.

“But I’m  _warm_.” Dan complained.

“Me too. You’re like a cuddly little hot water bottle.”

“Oi, I’m nearly as tall as you. And I’m still growing.” Dan pouted.

“My little baby.” Phil crooned, pretending to rock Dan in his arms.

Dan dissolved into giggles, too sleepy to open his eyes. “I’ll go if you carry me.”

“I’m not carrying you all the way to the dungeons, you’re way too fat for me.”

“Nah, you’re just too scrawny. Maybe just levitate the sofa to my bed for me then.”

“I would, but then I’d have to go with you and the corridors are really cold. You’re going to have to get up and walk I’m afraid.” Phil made no attempt to push Dan away however, holding him closer even.

“You’re mean,” Dan mumbled, “I don’t have any shoes on.”

“That’s because you put them by the fire to dry, remember?”

“And then they caught fire because Chris is an idiot.”

“And then I put them out because I am a magical genius.”

“They smell funny now though, I don’t want to put them on.” Dan’s voice was muffled by a puffy, red cushion.

“So you’re going to walk all the way through those cold, stone corridors in your socks then?”

“No, you’re going to carry me.”

“No, I’m going to push you off onto the cold floor.”

“No you’re not.”

“Yes I am.”

“No you’re not, you’re going to carry me to your bed so we can go to sleep without having to let go.” Dan smiled happily into the fabric of the sofa.

“And you call me the soppy one.” Phil rolled his eyes.

“Pleeeeease. It’s Christmas! They won’t punish us on Christmas.”

“Do you think?”

“I think.”

“Careful, you might hurt yourself.”

“Shush you Mr fifth-year-amazing-magic-person.”

“I’m not sure the other boys in my dorm would be too impressed though.” Phil smiled.

“They’re sleeping or out. They won’t know. We’ll be quiet as mice.”

“Stop tempting me.”

“Never.”

Phil sighed, breathing in the sweet smell of Dan’s hair. “You’ll still have to go back to get changed for tonight, you realise.”

“Yeeeey!”

“Shh!”

“Oww why do we have to get up.”

“The bed is up a whole flight of stairs.”

“No.”

“Yes. I’m not carrying you. Come one.”

“But it’s cold!”

“Just think about how warm and cosy it will be in bed.”

“Ow.”

“Get up.”

“I’ve lost a sock.”

“Come on.”

“No! The stone’s too cold, I can’t go up the stairs.”

“Yes you can.”

“No I can’t, my foot hurts.”

“Why does your foot hurt?”

“Sports injury.”

Phil snorted. “I’m not carrying you, I’ll probably brake both our backs falling down.”

“I mean it Phil, I can’t walk.”

“Yes you can.”

“I can’t. I’m going to have to stay down here on my own all night, and when they ask me why I’m in the wrong house I’ll tell them it’s because I’m crippled but you were too heartless to help me.”

“We are going to die.”

“I’m flying Phil!”

~

They tumbled together into the four poster, Phil out of breath and red in the face. Quickly, Dan pulled the hangings around them as he noticed the shape in the next bed stir. Phil grinned, still panting, and tugged at Dan’s robes to bring him crashing down into the bed with a soft thwump of fabric. Dan nuzzled into Phil’s neck, squirming on the cold sheets. Phil was shivering too, pulling the blankets over them and pressing himself as much into Dan as Dan was pushing against Phil.

Phil kissed Dan’s hair. Stray tendrils tickled his nose as he breathed, and he tried in vain to push the tousled mop away from his mouth as he spat out yet another one of Dan’s soft, brown hairs. Dan was oblivious, his face buried into the warmth of Phil’s neck. His breath was tickling the delicate skin, and Phil pushed him away with a giggle.

“You’re so annoying,” he murmured. “Spoon like a normal person. Backward spoons are very impractical.”

Sure enough, Dan had curled into the foetal position while facing Phil – with the effect that his legs pushed Phil away from him and his knees dug painfully into Phil’s stomach. With a sigh, Dan rolled over and let Phil wrap his arms around his waist. After a moment, he changed his mind and forcibly rolled them back over again so that he could be big spoon. Phil rolled his eyes, but smiled at the warm encasing of Dan’s arms and the pressure of his body against his back. It felt incredibly safe somehow. Gently, he kissed Dan’s hand.

Dan mumbled something inaudible in response, but already they were slipping into sleep.

~

“Shit, Dan, we’ve got half an hour before the ball. Wake up Dan!”

Dan mumbled something incoherent, rolling back over with a snore.

With a grim expression, Phil pressed his hands against Dan’s shoulders and heaved – rolling him tumbling onto the floor in a tangle of bed curtains and sheets.

Somewhere in the mess, Dan swore groggily. “I hate you.”

“Wake up,” Phil said urgently. “We’ve got half an hour to get ready, and you still have to get back to your dormitory.”

Dan groaned loudly. Ignoring him, Phil tugged off his crumpled clothes and searched frantically for his dress robes. They were coal black, with simple blue trimming and detailing. He struggled half-heartedly with bowtie, before giving up and smoothing down the collar of his pale blue shirt. Before he could cast aside the scrap of navy fabric however, slender hands were at his neck, tying the bow expertly and pulling it tight.

“Looking dapper, Philip.” Dan’s voice was low, still hoarse with sleep, and Phil shivered.

“You need to go get ready,” Phil replied, pulling his cloak around his shoulders. “We now have twenty minutes. I want my date looking sharp.”

Dan’s smile faded, replaced with an expression of uncertainty rippled with lines of anxiety.

“Oh god. Are you sure I can come? There’s no way of hiding it, third years are only allowed if they’ve got a date. There’s no way we can pass this off as platonic.”

Phil shrugged. “Technically, it’s about the age thing so you’re a fourth year. Don’t worry. You look a lot older, I don’t think anyone will think we’re together – they’ll think you’re my year probably.”

Dan nodded, but the worry was still in his eyes. “I’m gonna look like such a prick in my dress robes.”

Phil grinned. “I can’t wait. I haven’t seen them yet, are they awful? I reckon you’ll look fine whatever they are. You’re pretty hot, you know. No one will even notice.”

This had the desired effect, and Dan’s cheeks reddened. He smiled, kissed Phil quickly on the cheek, and slipped down the stairs in his pink kitten patterned socks to fetch his shoes.

~

Dan was waiting for Phil at the bottom of the marble stairs, pulling fretfully at his black, shiny bowtie.

“Daniel,” Phil said as he drew closer, squinting. “Is that a  _leather bowtie_? _”_

Dan grinned guiltily. “Maybe. Oh god. I’m stupidly nervous. Why am I here?! I’m really not a party person anyway. What are we going to do if they make us dance Phil? We can’t dance together. Well, I can’t dance at all-”

He was cut off suddenly as Phil pressed a finger against his lips with a ‘shush’.

“Stop. It’s going to be fun. I promise. And if you’re not having fun, we can escape. Don’t worry – they’re not going to point their wands at us and make us dance. By the way, you look gorgeous.” Phil made a show of looking Dan up and down, and Dan blushed.

His dress robes were sleek and black, the fabric thinner somehow than everyone else’s. It rippled and swished deliciously as he moved. The cloak was sealed with an ornate but subtle silver clasp, and the robes were trimmed with silver thread and intricate embroidery that glittered in the light. He fiddled awkwardly with his cufflinks, his face downturned in embarrassment, and Phil giggled as he took his arm and dragged him into the Great Hall.

The walls had been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The house tables had vanished; instead, there were about a hundred, smaller, lantern-lit tables, each seating a dozen people. Dan and Phil joined the thronging crowd, searching on tiptoes for their friends. All at once the buzz of voices swelled and the crowd parted to let the four champions through. It was easy to see how these people had been chosen above everyone else; they couldn’t possibly be human. Radiating beauty poured off all four couples (with the exception possibly of a scrawny, black haired Gryffindor who blushed furiously when he spotted them – having last stumbled across the pair with considerably less clothing on). They made their way up to the top table with a sweeping of long robes and eight graceful gaits.

Phil caught sight of Chris at a table and led Dan over quickly before the spare seats could be filled. To Dan’s delight, Chris was still wearing his pink scarf – concealed not so subtly under his robes. He thrust his chest out with a wink when he saw Dan, highlighting the shock of pink all the more. It was at this moment however that Professor Dumbledore swept past, in robes of shimmering silver, and he crooked his head ever so slightly to murmur ‘nice scarf’ as he passed. Chris glowed as pink as the wool around his neck, and sat down abruptly.

Carrie’s robes were not so much robes as a red and white polka dot dress that spread out in a full circle as she spun. Her hair was shining and her lips were as red as her dress, and Phil grinned to see a skinny Durmstrang boy at her arm.

“It’s Alex, right?” Phil said, shaking his hand.

Alex was wearing robes of shocking black and white in geometric patterns that gave Dan a headache as he stared. He had a bright blue bowtie and a tight fitting maroon waistcoat under his robes, and Carrie was positively beaming as she pulled her chair closer to him. He laughed easily and loudly, and his smile seemed to be contagious.

The meal was delicious of course, but Dan had the feeling most of the hall were still full from Christmas lunch, as many of the plates were left half full with their owners eyeing the untasted wonders sadly yet hopelessly. Up next however was what Dan had allowed Phil to drag him here for: the Weird Sisters had been booked to perform, and as everyone got excitedly to their feet the band traipsed on stage to a rapturous applause.

They were all incredibly hairy, and were wearing black robes that had been artfully ripped and torn. The champions assembled somewhat reluctantly in the centre of the room, and they struck up a mournful tune. It wasn’t long before teachers and students alike were slipping nervously on to the dance floor, rotating tentatively and blushing furiously at their dates. Carrie and Alex were dancing enthusiastically, but apparently to a completely different song to the one playing, and Chris wasted no time in starting a conga line.

Charlie stood with Dan and Phil, watching the show. Dan hadn’t really had much of a chance to get to know Charlie, but from his floppy fringe and gentle, quiet nature, Dan knew they’d get along.

“Are you two going to dance?” He asked with a smile.

“Nah, we don’t want to, you know…” Phil shrugged.

“I think you should,” Charlie said. “No one’s going to say anything with all the teachers here. It’s the best time to do it really, it gives time for people to get used to it.”

Phil turned uncertainly to Dan.

Dan shook his head, his eyes wide. “I can’t actually dance, so it really wouldn’t work.”

“It’s up to you of course, but you shouldn’t waste your evening just standing at the edge of it all. Enjoy yourself. It’s not every year you get to go to a ball.” With that, Charlie had excused himself and made his was over to a table full of Gryffindors.

Phil turned to Dan. “What do you reckon? I can’t dance either, but he’s right.”

Dan still looked unsure, but Phil took his hand. “There,” he said softly. “That’s the worst of it over with. Will you take this dance?”

Suddenly, Dan grinned. The magic of Christmas and the free, bubbling atmosphere seemed to have gone to his head and he took Phil’s other hand, letting him lead them right out to the centre of the dance floor. They stared at each other for a moment, standing close, then Dan rested his hands gently in the soft curves of Phil’s waist. Slowly, they began to dance, and all around them couples twirled.

People stared, and a few whispered comments to their friends, but it wasn’t as bad as Dan had thought. Perhaps they were given a wider berth than the other couples, but that was probably because no one wanted to risk getting trampled by their terrible dancing.

Two girls in pink, floaty robes stopped dead in the floor to stare. They made no attempt to hide their disgust, and struck up a loud and pointed conversation about the ‘type of repulsive practices Hogwarts allowed to carry on these days’; but their discussion was cut short abruptly as Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall tangoed very determinedly towards them, forcing them to scatter to avoid being run over. It might have been his imagination, but Dan was sure Dumbledore flashed him a wink as he passed.

~

After a particularly vigorous number, they retreated flushed in the face to find a drink. Chris was at the table, talking animatedly to two identical ginger haired twins. Dan and Phil and made their introductions, gulping back icy punch that slid deliciously down their throats. They were just discussing the strange, lute-like instrument one of the band members were playing when the colour drained abruptly from Chris’s cheeks. He was frozen to the spot, apparently completely paralysed, staring wide eyed and open mouthed at something over Dan’s shoulder.

“Oh my god.” He whispered.

Dan whipped round.

Heading straight towards them was none other than PJ Liguori, cloaked in midnight blue robes and a tight fitting black shirt. His skin was gloriously tanned and his hair somehow seemed even more luscious than usual. He ignored Dan and Phil, stopping instead directly in front of Chris, his green eyes glittering in the candlelight. His lips spread into a heart melting crooked grin, and he looked steadily into Chris’s eyes.

His voice was low and husky and impossibly rich.

“Would you like to dance?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> both alex and tom (milsom) were written in before news hit the internet of their various sex offences, and they have both since been quietly removed from the story. As I never really got into Tom's character he's going to be replaced by Tomska/Thomas Ridgewell but I thought I should let you know as it's pretty obvious reading it that he wasn't the original Tom.  
> Thank you everyone who's reading i literally live for your comments omg ily <3


	7. The Morning After the Night Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up with more than just a hangover

Phil awoke in a groggy haze. Comprehension came slowly, as if he was dragging it up from the very depths of the lake with a heavy weight tied to one end. There was something sticky in his hair and his limbs were tangled in thick fabric. Come to think of it, not all the limbs he could feel were his own. He frowned, and attempted to move his head. This was a bad mistake, as the position he had been sleeping in was physically improbable and the movement sent a shooting pain down his spine. He groaned as he tried to stretch out the aching stiffness. There was someone else’s hair tickling his nose and someone else’s arm almost suffocating him where it was wound around his neck. He frowned, his eyes still too heavy to open, as he tried to recall the night before.

They had drunk a lot of butterbeer. He remembered clearly the cheerful, giddy tingling and the warmth in his fingers. He remembered Chris and PJ. Chris had been shaking in terror as they’d taken to the floor, his eyes wider and more innocent than Phil could ever have imagined. PJ had chuckled his deep, throaty chuckle and taken his waist, sending visible shivers down Chris’s spine. He had jolted where they touched, his face draining of colour and then flooding red again all of a sudden.

Dan and Phil had watched, hand in hand, as Chris had melted into PJ’s arms with an expression of upmost bliss, and they had been painfully close to tearing up. Chris had seemed completely unable to let go of PJ all night, clutching at his robes as if afraid he would vanish into a hallucination if he broke physical contact. PJ had taken it all very amicably however, and had introduced himself warmly to the group from Chris’s arm.

From then on it was all a bit of a blur. He remembered Chris and PJ disappearing for half an hour without a word and returning with rosy cheeks and stumbling limbs, having somehow procured a large quantity of elderflower wine which they were hiding not so inconspicuously under their robes. As the party raged on and various meads and liquors were brought out for the of-age students, the staff seemed to turn a blind eye to the tipsy fifth years in the corner; however it seemed they weren’t the only group with good foraging skills and they were forced to vacate speedily to the grounds when a fourth year threw up violent green vomit in the middle of the dance floor and the teachers were suddenly spurred into action.

The fairy garden provided a high pitched and squealing game of catch and Phil distinctly remembered a steamy make out session behind a rose bush. He wasn’t sure exactly how they had brought the night to a close, but as he carefully unstuck each eye he was about to find out.

He was in his own bed, which was a pleasant surprise, but the hangings had been torn down almost completely on one side and were now tangled hopelessly. Dan was lying almost on top of him, breathing gently, his hair curled and mussed. Carefully, Phil manoeuvred an arm out from under Dan and tried to shake some feeling back into it. He lifted up his head (with a hiss of pain) to find the owner of the third pair of legs that were caught in the fabric.

Chris lay curled up in a nest of blankets and pillows (and bed curtains) on the floor, with his arms firmly wrapped around PJ Liguori. His mouth was fixed in a smile, his face half hidden in PJ’s hair, his long legs somehow still elevated up on the bed as if the pair had fallen off at some point in the night. Phil grinned fondly. Careful not to impose the same fate on Dan, he began the slow and intensely painful process of untangling himself.

He was just attempting to clean up a curious doughnut shaped bruise on his thigh with a jar of Star Grass Salve when he heard a whisper from the floor.

“Phil, Phil help. Where’s my wand?” Chris hissed.

“Why do you need your wand?” Phil asked, amused. Chris’s hair was sticking up comically and his eyes were wide.

“I need to fix myself up before PJ wakes up. Please Phil, this is urgent. My mouth tastes like I’ve been licking dragon balls.”

“Your hair need a bit of work too.” Phil giggled.

Chris groaned. “Shit Phil, is it on the bed somewhere? It’s not in my robes and I can’t see it on the floor.”

“I’ll look,” Phil whispered, rummaging through the mess of fabrics. His movement stirred Dan however, who sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes.

“Ow?” He said.

Phil laughed. “How you feeling?”

“Everything hurts. Why does everything hurt?”

“How’s your head?” Chris asked sympathetically. “But shush please, I don’t want to wake this here fallen angel - whom I seem to have woken up next to. It’s a miracle. I may still be dreaming though, I haven’t decided yet.”

Dan grinned down at him. “My head is fine. A bit heavy maybe. Congrats Christos, about bloody time.”

Chris beamed. Beside him, PJ shifted.

“My wand Phil, quick!” Chris said softly yet urgently.

“Here,”

“Thanks. Oh god. My head hurts. What’s the spell?”

“Erm, try ‘Ora Recentes’.” Phil murmured.

Chris whispered hurriedly, pointing his wand at his mouth, and was jet-propelled backwards into the pillows with a thump.

“Chris?” Phil gasped. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Chris’s voice was muffled by the fabric. “I think I might literally have exploded a whole mint tree in my mouth. But fine.”

Phil giggled quietly. “Now you really do need to fix your hair.”

~

Chris was running generous quantities of Wizard’s Sculpting Gel through his hair with his fingers when PJ rolled over with a yawn. He opened his eyes blearily, stretching his long arms above his head and twisting on the floor before smiling up at Chris.

Dan shook his head in disbelief. Somehow, despite having just woken up, PJ still managed to pull off the rugged, ruffled and helplessly attractive look perfected only by the models in Witch Weekly. His smile was warm and there was a light in his eye, as if slightly amused by what he was seeing. He yawned again, uncurling his legs to stretch and it was only then that Dan realised just how ridiculously long PJ’s legs were – his socks were protruding out from the other side of the double bed.

There was a strange, choking noise from the floor and Dan raised his eyebrows at Chris. His face had gone almost completely white and his mouth was hanging open as he stared at PJ’s gangly frame. PJ had heard too, and he turned to Chris with concern in his sparkling green eyes.

“You okay?” He frowned, propping himself up on one elbow to rub Chris’s shoulder.

The contact was too much for Chris, and he keeled over in a dead faint.

~

Dan and Phil teased Chris mercilessly all the way down to breakfast. PJ had refused to leave until Chris finally managed to convince him that he really was okay (“It’s just the hangover, you know, because I just woke up and I’m dehydrated and stuff. I’m fine I swear, I don’t need to go to Madam Pomfrey. Shut up Dan. I’m fine Peej, I swear.”) before heading off to the Ravenclaw dormitories to get changed. Chris decided to complete his walk of shame and went down to the Great Hall in his crumpled dress robes, but only after Phil had insisted on spraying him with a rose essence spell before he would stand next to him.

When PJ wandered in, looking sharp again with a group of his friends, Chris buried his head in shame. To his horror, PJ abandoned his friends and sat down next to Chris with a grin – grabbing a stack of toast.

“I’m starving,” he said. “I swear, butter and toast is the single best hangover cure.”

Beside him, Chris just whimpered.

Dan had never drunk in any quantity before, and consequently he felt fit as a fiddle – which is more than can be said for Phil, who was slowly but surely developing a pounding headache. His head had sunk onto the table and he was groaning quietly, his eyes screwed tightly shut against the bright morning sky. All around the Hall students and teachers alike were in similarly delicate states. Professor McGonagall was wincing every time Hagrid set down his heavy tankard of water, while the arithmancy teacher, Professor Vector, was snoring loudly into a bowl of porridge.

PJ seemed a little sleepy but otherwise cheery, and he was talking animatedly about the Ball, seemingly oblivious to Chris’s frozen figure at his side. He turned to Chris with a question.

“To be honest a lot of last night is blurry. It definitely happened though, Chris, do you remember when those pissed as newts sixth years tried to ride the Beauxbatons horses?”

“Huh?” Chris said stupidly, his eyes glazed.

PJ’s eyebrows creased. “Are you  _sure_ you’re okay? You look really ill.”

“I’m fine, seriously,” Chris blushed. “Just a bit out of it. Because, you know, I’m really tired.”

“I know how you feel,” PJ said with a yawn. “I don’t think we picked the comfiest sleeping spot. Any idea how we ended up in Phil’s dormitory? I guess we’re all from different houses which is a pain. Anyway – I was talking about when those three sixth year idiots tried to levitate themselves on top of the Beauxbatons horses. I reckon they’re still in the hospital wing, those bruises would have been nasty. They’re lucky they didn’t get trampled to death to be honest, one kick to the head and they would have been gonners.”

Chris nodded. “Yeah, I remember. PJ, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah?”

Chris took a deep breath and forced himself to look into those shimmering green eyes. “What happened, with us, last night? I’m feeling kinda tender at the moment and I’ve been trying really hard to remember but like thinking makes my head hurt.”

PJ laughed. “Nothing, don’t worry. We just danced a bit and messed around because like, we were drunk and having a laugh.”

“Ah, good. Just wanted to make sure I wasn’t pregnant.”

PJ’s chuckle was mellow and lifted a smile into everyone’s cheeks. “To be honest, I was kinda nervous about asking you to dance. I’d been watching you all night. You’re really funny, you know. I was just like ‘I wanna be friends with that kid’ but I wasn’t sure how you’d react to the whole dancing thing. I mean, I didn’t know if you were straight or not.”

“Oh,” Chris said, surprised. He was silent for a moment, digesting this information, his eyes slightly alarmed. “Oh,” He said again. “I didn’t know you weren’t. That’s why I asked really, I mean, I’m not. I’m like – I don’t really know really. Actually.”

PJ sniggered. Beside him, Dan and Phil exchanged an amused glance.

“I’m probably bisexual, but I’m not worrying too much.” PJ replied with a smile.

“Oh. That’s good. Does that mean we can have threesomes?” Chris seemed to be recovering his composure at the speed of a galloping hippogriff, colour spreading to his cheeks and a smile growing steadily on his lips.

“Yes please. Lots of threesomes. Foursomes too. In fact, let’s just organize an orgy.” PJ winked.

~

Chris spent most of the rest of the day walking around as if he’d just one the lottery. Not even PJ heading back over to re-join his friends at the Ravenclaw table could dampen his spirits, and he walked with a spring in his step that soon became infuriating to the grumpy and aching Phil.

“Oh my god. Can you go take your happiness somewhere else please. I am no longer happy for you in any way, you’re so annoying.” He muttered after Chris had attempted a little jump of joy but lost his footing on the staircase and tumbled into Phil.

Chris responded by bursting into a cheerful chorus of ‘Happy as a Hippogriff’ and wrapping Phil in a bear hug.

~

“What do you think it means though?”

“I really don’t know, Chris.” Phil said tiredly. It felt like the hundredth time they had analysed PJ’s words to Chris, but he ploughed onwards once more.

“I mean, he was joking about threesomes. Does that mean he likes me? He came and sat next to me and everything but I don’t know where that puts us, you know? I mean, he said he was nervous about asking me to dance. But after you’ve danced with someone does that mean you’re seeing each other or what? I wish he’d just propose already.” Chris sighed dramatically.

Phil looked at Dan, as if to say ‘your turn’, and Dan sighed. “We’ve been through this Chris, we don’t know what it meant. I reckon just take it as it comes. He seems pretty friendly towards you, but until it’s anything more you shouldn’t let yourself worry.”

Chris ran his fingers through his hair. “I know but like, there was lots of hugging. And hand holding. Does that mean he likes me? Or was it like he said, drunk and messing about? Just because he’s bisexual doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a preference for girls. He probably doesn’t like me, I mean he only said he wanted to be ‘friends’ with me and if he wanted more surely he’d have said it?”

“I don’t know, Chris.”

“He’s so hard to read. There were times last night where I swear I thought he was going to kiss me. And he came over to sit with us this morning. Like, he sat next to me specifically. Does that means friends or something more? And what did he mean about the threesomes bit?”

“I really don’t know, Chris.”

“I mean obviously it was a joke, but surely he wouldn’t have said that if he’d meant just friends? And why did he tell me he was bisexual unless he thought it would matter?”

“I really, really,  _really,_  do not know Christopher.”

“He’s so fucking beautiful. And his laugh. He laughs all the time. Making him laugh is the best feeling in the world.”

“Yeah,”

“The things he says are so funny and so smooth and so abstract. He’s got like, a massively creative mind. I’m just in awe. He doesn’t like me, I’m sure of it. I’m such an idiot compared to him. I mean, he’s in Ravenclaw and everything. What do you think he meant about the threesomes though?”

“Jesus Christ.”

~

“Oh my god, Chris, just ask him on a date!” Dan threw up his arms in exasperation.

Chris fell suddenly silent, frozen on the chair. “I can’t do that. Can I?”

“Yes, yes you can. That’s exactly what you should do. That’s probably why he came over. You know, because he made the first move so now it’s your turn. He probably was really nervous like ‘right, now to see if he feels the same’ and then you didn’t even do the old ‘I really enjoyed spending time with you last night’ classic. He’s probably heartbroken. You should ask him to do something with you.”

“Do you really think?” Chris asked, horrified.

“I really think. In fact, go do it now. Go on. I saw him in the library like ten minutes ago.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

“I really can’t Dan. What if I pass out again?”

“Then maybe he’ll panic and give you the kiss of life.”

“Fuck off Dan.”

“Fuck PJ, Chris.”

“I’m trying.”

“Not very hard.”

“Oh god. I can’t do it.”

“You can. I will come with you.”

“Will you?”

“Yes. Let’s go.”

“What, now?!”

“Yes, now. The longer you leave it the more he’ll think you’re not interested.”

“I can’t do it Dan.”

“Yes you can. Come on.”

“Get off me! No, I can’t oh my god Dan let go I can’t do it!”

“I’ll do it for you if I have to.”

“No, Dan don’t you dare, I hate you so much, what if he- oh. Hey Peej.” Chris’s voice jumped three octaves into a squeak as he almost walked straight into PJ in the corridor.

“Oh, hey guys. How you doing?” PJ’s expression was warm, and his eyes flickered to Chris.

“Good thanks Peej, Chris wanted to ask you something,” Dan smiled serenely.

“No I didn’t.” Chris hissed.

“Yes you do. Go on. I’ll turn around and pretend I can’t hear if you want.” Dan said stubbornly.

Chris opened and closed his mouth a couple of times like a goldfish. PJ waited patiently, an amused grin playing across his lips.

“Chris…”

“I’m doing it, shut up Dan. I hate you so much. Oh God. Um, yeah, Peej. I, er…”

“I’m on a bit of a tight schedule here Chris my boy, I may have to hurry you.” PJ laughed.

“Yes, I, um, sorry yeah. The thing is. I was wondering if you wanted to… I mean I totally understand if not don’t get me wrong here I’m not suggesting… just like, I mean, you know nothing serious or anything, just like, to get to know each other and stuff… I mean, I don’t mean like-”

Chris was cut off abruptly as PJ leaned forwards in one swift motion, taking Chris’s cheek in his hand and pulling their lips together into a kiss. Gently, PJ pulled away, the amused smile still in place.

“Oh.” Chris said.


	8. Valentine’s at Puddifoot’s

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A totally romantic trip to Hogsmeade

New Year passed in a swirling explosion of fireworks and celebrations. The lake was glittering with the reflections of a thousand sparkling colours as Dan’s lips crashed into Phil’s and Chris’s pressed against PJ’s. At least, that’s how they told it the next day. In reality, Dan and Phil had both been so caught up in the beauty of the fireworks that they completely forgot about a New Year’s Kiss until the last flecks of gold and scarlet had faded into the smoky sky. Dan had yelped suddenly and, in such a hurry to kiss Phil, had missed his lips completely and nearly gouged Phil’s eye out.

Chris and PJ had been a little way down the jetty, oblivious to everyone else, hand in hand as they stared out across the black water. When the gong struck twelve, Chris had launched himself at PJ. He had however been expecting far more resistance, and ended up toppling them both over into the lake – crashing straight through the thin layer of ice and into the freezing water. Maybe their lips touched in the frantic thrashing of limbs and tangled fabric that followed, but it certainly hadn’t been as romantic as Chris had planned. Dripping wet, shivering violently and both slightly blue under the stars, Chris had taken PJ’s hand once more.

“Yeah, um, sorry about that. I didn’t realise you were tying your shoelace. Anyway. Will you go out with me?”

“I hate you so much.”

“Is that a yes?”

“There’s a crab in your hair.”

“Great. Excellent. Love you Peej.”

“Love you crabhead.”

~

The foursome saw in the New Year in the hospital wing, pleasantly cheerful if a little disgruntled at having missed the party. Dan hid not so inconspicuously under Phil’s blankets as madam Pomfrey made her rounds. She seemed not to have noticed, but handed the three patients four mugs of hot chocolate without a word.

“Aw, do we have to stay here? We’re fine I swear.” Chris whined.

“You two boys will have to stay at least twelve hours under observation. If you’d come to me straight away you might have been okay with a strong warming draft, but running around in wet robes in this weather! Think of your exams boys, you cannot afford to catch a chill at this crucial stage. Phil can go if he wants, but I’m happy to keep him here in case of infection.”

Of course Phil stayed, with Dan nestled comfortably pressed up against the warmth of his stomach. At some point in the night, PJ’s bed was mysteriously vacated, and when Madam Pomfrey bustled in the next day with breakfast she tsked loudly.

“For goodness sake. You could at least have put a pillow under your blankets to make it look like you tried.  _Boys._ ” With a shake of the head, she dumped four plates of steaming sausages on a tray.

“He gets nightmares, Miss.” Chris said innocently.

“Oh really?” Madam Pomfrey raised an eyebrow. “I have just the thing for that. Don’t worry, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’ll go get some Sleep Soother now. I’ve heard it tastes like faecal matter, and clearly you have a severe case so you’ll need at least half a flask.”

PJ paled visibly. “Has it been twelve hours yet?”

~

They had been seeing each other for several months, but for some reason Valentine’s Day descended on Dan and Phil in a cloud of awkwardness. They met in the Entrance Hall, joining the crowd of slowly shuffling crowd of students being signed out by Filch, and Phil realised only too late that he probably should have taken Dan’s hand. They’d agreed to buy presents for each other in Hogsmeade and spend the day just the two of them.

“This feels weird,” Dan muttered.

“I know,” Phil agreed. “I think it’s because we’ve never been on a date before, like, we have, but we’ve never said it was a date. It’s Valentine’s Day though, there’s no avoiding it. To be honest, I haven’t got a clue what we’re supposed to do.”

“Me neither. I reckon we should follow them – they look like they know what they’re doing.” Dan gestured at Cedric Diggory and his pretty girlfriend, a little way ahead of them.

“Good idea,” Phil nodded. “Let’s just copy whatever they do.”

Cedric and Cho made for a small, pokey looking coffee shop as they entered Hogsmeade, and Dan relaxed slightly.

“Coffee, I can do that.” Dan said, relieved.

Phil grinned. The February air was chill and he slipped his cold hands into Dan’s woollen mittens. “These are cute. Did you get addicted to that knitting spell?”

Dan flinched against Phil’s icy touch, curling his own fingers around Phil’s in the warm cocoon. “You’re like an icicle. Why didn’t you wear gloves?”

“You haven’t knitted me any yet.”

Dan rolled his eyes. “You say  _I’m_  addicted. Alright, but I’m not sure how well I can do fingers, they look fiddly. You might get six by accident.”

The little teashop was cramped and steamy, and everything seemed to have been decorated with frills and bows.

“Um, cute.” Dan said with a wince.

“Yeah…”

Dan and Phil squeezed themselves into a cosy window table, brushing pink confetti off the chairs so that they could sit down. The candle in the centre of the table was violent pink, with a single red flame that twisted into a smoky heart. It smelled strongly of strawberry jam, and Dan wrinkled up his nose.

“Well. I guess it’s, er, romantic.”

Phil picked up a menu with a giggle. “I think I’m going to get the Lover’s Hot Chocolate with extra marshmallows.”

“Interesting,” Dan raised an eyebrow. “What do you reckon makes it a ‘Lover’s’ hot chocolate, as opposed to a normal one?”

The difference, it transpired, was in colour. The tall mug was filled with a sickly lavender liquid that looked nothing remotely like chocolate, and Phil prodded somewhat doubtfully at the fluffy pink marshmallows. Dan had gone for a straight coffee, but it had been served in a heart shaped mug which probably not the most convenient shape to drink out of.

Phil sniggered as Dan spilled hot coffee down himself for the second time.

“Shut up,” Dan complained. “How’s your purple gloop?”

“Surprisingly tasty. How are the pink sugar cubes?”

“Strawberry flavoured.”

“Ah.”

Dan and Phil only had eyes for each other, mostly because the rest of the shop was filled exclusively with couples glued together in sloppy kisses or crooning embraces.

“They’re letting their lovely drinks get cold.” Dan said in a stage whisper.

Phil snorted into his hot chocolate. “Oh god. I’m not sure how much longer I can take this. Don’t suppose you fancy ditching the singing cherubs and finding Chris and Peej?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

~

The Hog’s Head couldn’t have been more different. A battered, wooden sign hung from a rusty bracket over the door, with a picture on it of the severed head of a wild boar, leaking blood onto the white cloth around it. The sign creaked in the wind as they approached. The pub consisted of one, dingy and very dirty room that smelled strongly of something that may have been goats. The bay windows were so encrusted in grime that very little daylight could permeate the room, which was lit instead by the stubs of candles sitting on rough wooden tables. Clearly, the landlord had made no attempt to decorate for Valentine’s Day.

The floor seemed at first glance to be earth, but as Phil stepped onto it he realised that there was stone beneath what seemed to be the accumulated filth of centuries. There was a man at the bar whose whole head was wrapped in dirty grey bandages, though he was still managing to gulp endless glasses of some smoky, fiery substance through a slit over his mouth. Two figures, shrouded in hoods, sat at one of the window tables. Phil might have thought them dementors if it hadn’t been for their strong Yorkshire accents.

The pub was a lot quieter than The Three Broomsticks, and Phil felt the urge to whisper.

“Do you see Chris and Peej?”

“No… wait, yes – there they are. The corner by the fireplace.”

Chris and PJ were deep in conversation, their chairs pushed close together, and Dan was starting to regret their decision to join them unannounced. Phil seemed to be thinking along the same lines, as when he approached the table it was with false surprise in his tone.

“Hey, fancy seeing you two in here! We’re exploring. It’s er, alternative, huh?”

The couple seemed not to mind the intrusion however, and quickly shuffled up to allow Dan and Phil to sit down at the rickety table.

“It has a certain charm to it.” Chris acknowledged with a grin.

The barman sidled towards them out of a back room. He was a grumpy-looking old man, with a great deal of grey hair.

“What?” He grunted.

“Two butterbeers, please.” Said Phil.

The man reached beneath the counter and pulled up two dusty, very dirty looking bottles, which he slammed on the bar.

“Four sickles.”

Phil passed over the silver, and the old man retreated once more into a dark passageway.

“You know,” Chris murmured, peering over the bar at the rows of suspicious looking glass bottles. “I bet that bloke would sell us firewhisky.”

PJ raised an eyebrow. “Do you really think that’s a good idea, Christos?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You missed out on Katie Bell’s birthday party,” PJ said to Dan with a grin. “She’s in our year, on the Gryffindor team with Chris so he got a plus one. Oh god. Phil, did you see the thing with the canary creams?”

“No? What happened?!” Phil leaned forwards eagerly as Chris groaned and covered his face in his hands.

“Chris ate four. At once. We were caring for a drunk canary for half an hour. You know how birds regurgitate their food, right?”

“Oh, god.”

PJ was clearly enjoying himself, ignoring Chris’s groans. “Even after he’d lost all his feathers he was still a mess. He threw up on the birthday cake and tried to make out with Angelina.”

“I thought it was you!” Chris protested.

“Yeah, right. She was wearing a blue dress. She’s also black.”

“It was dark.”

“Just face it crab boy, you’re the worst boyfriend ever.”

“That’s not fair. I said sorry loads.”

“And then you threw up on me.”

“Well, yeah, that might have ruined the effect somewhat. It was an accident! You got me back though, you made out with both the twins at once.” Chris folded his arms grumpily.

“Well since we were all canaries at the time I don’t think it really counts. You can’t do much kissing with a beak. Anyway, you’re just jealous. You’ve always loved redheads.” PJ winked.

“I like  _your_ stupid fat head. Even though you’re really annoying like, 100% of the time.”

“I must love you too, because I wasted half my night and all of the next day looking after you.”

Chris reddened a bit. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes I did, you were hanging off my arm begging me to make you better.”

“Oh god, you’re making it sound so awful. Don’t listen to him, Dan. He was drunk too. So was everyone. I was by no means the worst. It’s Katie’s fault for inviting all the sixth and seventh years.”

Dan laughed as PJ wrapped his arms around Chris’s skinny shoulders, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head to show he wasn’t serious.

“What about you, Phil? You haven’t told me any of this – is that because you embarrassed yourself too?” Dan raised an eyebrow.

“Haven’t you heard?!” Chris said gleefully. “Phil put on a dress and proposed to McGonagall.”

~

They left Chris and PJ at Zonkos and headed further into the residential part of the village, exploring the quaint little houses and winding roads. February had washed away the snow with rain and as they walked it started to drizzle.

“Wanna go back?” Phil asked. “We don’t want to be caught miles away from shelter if it starts to tip it down.”

Dan shrugged. “There’s trees over there, and the sky’s only a little bit grey. I reckon we’ll be alright. Let’s keep going.”

They walked hand in hand down the cobbled path, making their way towards the hill at the edge of the village where the Shrieking Shack stood, balanced precariously on the steep slope. It didn’t look haunted. It seemed to Dan to be rather sad and old, drooping at the edges with vacant windows and an empty heart.

“Who do you think lived there?” He asked.

“No idea,” Phil said. “Someone with weird taste in architecture. I know who built it, but it’s ben habituated again a couple of times I think before it was properly abandoned.”

“Can you go inside?”

“No, I don’t think so anyway. It’s supposed to be really dangerous.”

Dan nodded thoughtfully. “Apparently it’s been silent for years though, maybe the ghosts have moved on.”

Phil turned to Dan, slightly alarmed. “We’re not going in there. Haven’t you heard the stories?”

“Not many, muggleborn remember? Wanna tell me a ghost story?” Dan gave Phil’s hand a teasing squeeze, but Phil grinned.

“Alright. There’s one my mum used to tell me when we’d come up to visit my brother and sister at Hogwarts. So there’s this guy, Hengist of Woodcroft, he founded Hogsmeade in like medieval times after being driven out of his muggle home for being magic and stuff. He was a Hufflepuff, actually. Anyway. He lived in the three broomsticks and he had a brother named Horsa who moved to Hogsmeade later and built the Shrieking Shack. Hengist wasn’t impressed though because all the houses in the village are small and friendly and it was meant to be a cute little village, but Horsa built this massive house right at the edge overlooking everyone. Hengist was like some fat redhead German guy – you know, the type you don’t piss off - and one day he decided to try get his brother to open up his house as an inn or something so he wasn’t so cut off from everyone. Horsa refused of course, and Hengist stopped talking to him for ages because he never came down from the hill.”

They were a lot closer now, Dan could see the detail of the mangled shutters on the windows.

“Anyway, Horsa became a recluse and everyone just sort of left him alone. Hengist tried to visit a few times, but Horsa wouldn’t open the doors so eventually he gave up. No one had seen Horsa in years. That’s when the first villager went missing. He was young, only about twenty, and he’d just moved in when he vanished without a trace. Of course, there was a massive search and investigation and stuff, but nothing was ever found of him. He didn’t have any family or anything so eventually they gave up searching and decided he’d just moved away without telling anyone. Another year passed, and all was peaceful. But then it happened again.” Phil was getting into the story now, his hands deep in his pockets.

“This time it was a barmaid from The Three Broomsticks, and she had a lot of friends and family and stuff so the search was a lot more thorough. The found nothing. She didn’t leave a note, and she didn’t even take her wand with her so she couldn’t have gone far. Like, she couldn’t have apparated or anything but they never found her. That winter, a third villager went missing – only this time there was snow, and for the first time in twenty years there were tracks leading up to the Shrieking Shack. Of course, the villagers had never liked Horsa because he had this massive house and stuff so they jumped to conclusions and, led by Hengist, stormed up the hill to pay a visit to old Horsa. They broke down the door and when they found him they were horrified, because he should have been eighty but he looked no older than thirty and everyone flipped. Hengist accused him of using dark magic to steal the life forces of villagers… and this bit’s weird. Horsa didn’t say anything. He just stood there in his dressing gown staring at his brother. The villagers were all hyped up for a fight, and his lack of reaction made them all the angrier and they jumped on him, killing him within seconds. With their bare hands. Hengist was grief stricken and tried to persuade anyone who’d listen that Horsa didn’t do it, but no one believed him. There wasn’t any evidence, but there wasn’t any other explanation either. The guilt and search for answers drove Hengist crazy, and he eventually returned to the Shack and killed himself. That was the end of it, the peaceful villagers decided never to speak of it again and Hengist kept his status as the loved and worshipped founder of Hogsmeade. No one else went missing, and the Shack was silent for years and years. And then the screaming started.”

There was silence for a moment, as Dan stared at Phil. “Well? Did he do it?”

Phil shrugged. “No one knows. Maybe he did, and maybe he didn’t. It was dark. I don’t think they could really have seen his face clearly. It was mob mentality. I like to think he was innocent. My mum used to say the screams weren’t the German brothers, they were the ghosts of all the villagers that caused their death; finally returning to the shack out of curiosity and discovering the truth.”

“I know the name though. He’s on the chocolate frog cards isn’t he?”

“Hengist? Yeah. You don’t hear much about Horsa though. That’s why it’s such a good story. There are more though, loads more. The building’s basically where everything creepy that ever happened in Hogsmeade’s history took place. There’s supposed to be loads of super violent ghosts now from all different periods of history, hanging out and yelling a lot.” Phil grinned. They were leaning against the fence that blocked the path that lead right up to the building now, staring out through the thin mist.

“That’s pretty cool,” Dan mused. “You’ll have to tell me more of them. I love ghost stories. Much better than confetti hearts.”

Phil laughed. “Oh god, this is so romantic isn’t it?”

“It’s much more us,” Dan grinned. “I’d rather be here than Puddifoot’s any day. It’s more original, right?”

Phil sniggered. “Yup. I certainly don’t see any other adoring couples.”

“Are we a couple now then? Like, a proper one? I know we’d said we’d just see how it goes and stuff but like, you know.”

Phil smiled gently. “Dan Howell. Will you be my proper, actual boyfriend?”

“Yes please.”

The mist clung to Dan’s hair in fine, cold droplets that tickled Phil’s fingers as he threaded them gently through the brown tendrils. Dan’s lips were chapped and red, rough against Phil’s, but the kiss was soft and gentle.

It was cut off abruptly however by an interruption from down the hill.

“Well,” Chris said. “And there I was thinking we were original and hipster with our romantic Valentine’s Day destination of choice.”


	9. OWLs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil has exams, and Dan is neglected.

The castle grounds were gleaming in the sunlight as though freshly painted; the cloudless sky smiled at itself in the smooth, sparkling lake; the satin green lawns rippled occasionally in a gentle breeze. June had arrived, but to the fifth years this meant only one thing: their OWLs were upon them at last.

The purposeful, feverish atmosphere had well and truly taken over Phil. He was in a daze of stress, his hand twitching involuntarily as he ate breakfast (sending his toast flying into the milk jug) as he tried to recall the wand movement for a summoning spell. PJ too was spending a lot of time muttering to himself, pouring over Arithmancy equations that made Phil feel physically sick. Carrie had developed an annoying and slightly terrifying habit of interrogating everyone she met about their revision practices.

“How many hours do you think you’re doing a day?” She demanded of Phil and Chris as they queued outside Herbology, a manic gleam in her eyes.

“I dunno,” Chris stammered. “A few?”

“More or less than eight?”

“Less, I guess.” Said Chris, looking slightly alarmed.

“I’m doing eight,” said Carrie, tugging somewhat manically at her hair. “Eight or nine. I’m getting an hour in before breakfast every day. Eight’s my average. I can do ten on a good weekend day. I did nine and a half on Monday. Not so good on Tuesday, only seven. Then on Wednesday-”

Thankfully she was cut off as Professor Sprout ushered them into the Greenhouse. Herbology was Phil’s favourite lesson, but he still found himself staring wistfully out through the glass at the third years relaxing by the lake. He wondered if Dan was with them. Phil’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. He knew he’d been neglecting Dan lately, brushing past him with a glazed look in his eye, listening to him talk for several minutes before realising he’d completely zoned out thinking about Cheering Charms. Dan had been understanding of course, making an effort to ensure Phil didn’t feel guilty, but with all his closest friends in fifth year Phil knew this must be a hard blow to Dan. He sighed into his bubotuber pus. He longed more than anything to be lazing out in the sunshine in Dan’s arms, perhaps with a flask of cool pumpkin juice and something sweet.

“Lester. You nearly had my eye out! Concentrate.” Professor Sprout bustled past disapprovingly as Phil muttered a ‘ _sorry_ ’.

On his left, Chris wasn’t doing much better. He looked half asleep, his eyelids drooping, as he prodded repetitively at the plant.

“Er, you know, that’s just a leaf. The swellings are a bit lower down. There you go.”

Chris sighed sadly, staring forlorn at the little puddle of yellow-green pus he had completely failed to collect. It was hissing angrily as it slowly burnt through the table. Phil and Chris watched it go with another sigh.

~

They spread their books out in the shade of the Beech tree and settled into sitting positions while Dan lay back in the long grass, staring somewhat smugly up at the blue sky.

Chris stared at him longingly. “I think we should get rid of Dan. He’s definitely not good motivation for study.”

“Yes,” Phil said irritably, turning a page of intermediate transfiguration and glaring at a series of diagrams depicting and owl turning into a pair of overalls. “He’s going all brown as well while we’re cooped up in revision classes. He looks like a bloody golden panda.”

Dan rolled over, grinning impishly up at Phil through dark lashes. The sun danced off his eyes reflecting flecks of gold and Phil sighed dramatically.

“Just you wait. Two years will wipe that smile off your face.”

Dan didn’t say anything, he just rolled again till his head was nestled comfortably in Phil’s lap. Phil let out a moan of frustration. “Stop it! I can’t do anything with you there. Go sit on the other side of the tree and make a daisy chain or something.”

Dan pouted, sitting up and brushing grass out of his hair. “That’s mean. Mr grumpy face.” Playfully, Dan lifted up the corners of Phil’s mouth into a smile, but Phil batted his hands away.

“Seriously Dan,” He sighed. “I need to do this. The exam’s literally tomorrow.”

Dan’s face fell, but he struggled quickly to pull a smile back onto his lips. “Alright. I’ll read a book. I promise I won’t say anything. I’ll sunbathe.”

Phil rolled his eyes. “We’re in the shade here, you will literally have to go on the other side of the tree.”

“That’s alright,” Dan shrugged, feigning a sob. “I know when I’m not wanted.”

“Yeah, piss off Dan.” Chris muttered, plunging his fist angrily into the soil as the wind blew the pages of his book and lost his place.

Dan slouched miserably off out of sight and slumped down with his back against the tree, his eyes following the gentle shifting and glittering of the lake. He could still see his friends, though they paid no attention to him, and he began absentmindedly to pick daisies.

Chris was reading two years-worth of charms notes with his fingers in his ears, his lips moving silently. Phil was lying flat on his back in the grass, reciting the definition of a Substantive Charm while PJ checked it against  _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5;_ while Carrie and Charlie, who were practising basic Locomotion Charms, were making their pencil cases race each other across the lawn.

As the sun began to fade into the trees, Dan crept slowly back to Phil’s side. Phil flashed him a weary smile of acknowledgement and, gently, Dan slipped a daisy crown onto Phil’s head.

Phil’s puckered into a soft ‘o’ and he let his books slip from his hands as he pulled Dan into his arms. “Oh god,” he muttered,” I hate exams.”

“Me too.” Dan mumbled.

Phil closed his eyes as he buried his face in Dan’s warm hair. Across the circle, PJ looked up and his lips spread into a smile. He followed Phil’s lead and abandoned his notes, turning instead to Chris and wrapping his arms around his waist until his protests faded away into silence. Carrie and Charlie exchanged a glance before hugging too, stretching out with almost audible creaks and winces of pain.

With Dan’s arms warm and tight against his back, Phil felt calmer than he had in weeks.

~

Dinner was a subdued affair. Chris and PJ did not talk much, but ate like ravenous lions having studied hard all day. The evening as a whole was uncomfortable, with everyone trying to do some last minute revision but nobody seemed to be getting very far. Phil went to bed early but then lay awake for what felt like hours. He wished more than ever now that he and Dan shared a dormitory, as he was sure he’d find it a lot easier to slip into slumber with Dan’s warmth up against him.

None of the fifth years talked very much at breakfast the next day, either. Carrie was practicing incantations under her breath will the salt cellar in front of her twitched; Charlie was reading Achievements in Charming so fast that his eyes appeared blurred; and Chris kept dropping his knife and fork and knocking over the marmalade. Phil chewed his lip and tried to force his churning stomach to accept some toast. His face was drawn and his skin pale, and all down the tables were matching, purple shadows under hundreds of tired eyes. Phil was just giving up on the toast when a pair of warm, slightly damp arms wrapped around his shoulders.

“You okay?” Dan murmured.

His hair was still wet from the shower and he smelled like summer fruits. Phil breathed in gratefully, shuffling up and pulling Dan down onto the bench beside him. “Better now. I just want it all to be over really.”

“Won’t be long, you’re amazing. You’ll be fine I promise.” Dan risked a quick peck on Phil’s cheek, and Phil smiled.

“You’re all soggy. Wish I’d had time for a nice, relaxing bath or something.”

Dan smiled sympathetically. “Just think of the celebrations when it’s all done.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Phil sighed. “None of that seems super important though because then it’ll be too late. What I really should be looking forward too is the feeling of elation when I open my twenty O’s in July.”

“Can you even do twenty OWLs?” Dan asked with a snigger.

“God, no. Can you imagine? I’d rather gouge my own eyeballs out with this spoon.”

~

The students filed out of the Great Hall and those taking exams milled around the Entrance Hall while the tables were set out. Dan stayed with Phil as long as he could, before pulling him into a tight hug and sprinting off to class. Phil couldn’t help feeling incredibly small and helpless without him. Some students clutched lucky dolls or charms, and Phil wished he could have had Dan in there with him, cuddled up on his lap, warm and close.

~

“Well, that wasn’t too bad, was it?” PJ said bracingly in the Entrance Hall two hours later. “Did you put in the counter charm for Hiccoughs? For twenty-three? I might have gone completely off track there I was just running out of time and panicking.”

“No, I didn’t,” Phil said alarmed. “That sounds a lot more sensible than what I put though. Oh god, you’re probably right you know. That was like eight marks.”

“Don’t worry,” Chris said cheerfully. “I wrote about a soothing draft for ten minutes before remembering it’s a potion.”

The fifth-years ate lunch with the rest of the school then trooped off to the small chamber beside the Great Hall, where they were to wait until called for their practical examination. As small groups of students were called forwards in alphabetical order, those left behind muttered incantations and practiced wand movements, occasionally poking each other in the back or eye by mistake. Phil was just running through Cheering Charms with PJ when he noticed Dan slip in a back door.

“Dan,” he whispered. “You’re not supposed to be in here!”

“Shh,” Dan grinned. “Don’t draw attention to it. I came to give you this.”

It was a tiny, knitted lion with mane of something soft and gold. Phil’s lips spread into a grin that pushed away at the anxiety that had been stretched across his chest for so long.

“I know it’s a bit silly,” Dan continued. “But I wanted to give you like a good luck charm or something, you know, because it’s a bit hot for the scarf now. And I noticed you didn’t have anything. Sorry it’s late, it was way more complicated than I thought I would be and I skipped lunch to get it finished in time.”

“It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re the best.”

“Good luck though, really. You’ll be amazing. Squeeze him if you’re scared. He shouldn’t break, have you got a name for him?”

“I’m going to call him lion.”

“Groundbreaking.”

“Thank you. I love you a lot.”

“I love you more. I should probably go before I get expelled.”

Phil stuffed the lion into his robes before pulling Dan into a hug and whispering another thank you into his hair.

“Kendall.” Was called and they wished him luck as Dan slipped out of the chamber. In what felt like just a few seconds, ‘Lester’ and ‘Liguori’ were read out and they gave each other a quick squeeze before heading out into the hall.

“Good afternoon, Philip Lester is it? Not to worry, nothing too tricky today.” The examiner was small and wizened, and he had a comforting twinkle in his eyes. “If you could start by taking this egg cup and making it do a few cartwheels for me.”

~

All in all it went better than expected. Chris was at the table next to him throughout and Phil kept casting sneaky glances across to see how he was doing. There was a mild disruption about ten minutes in however when the Hedgehog Chris was supposed to be enlarging swelled suddenly and alarmingly, and Phil was nearly trampled by eight feet of very angry prickles.

Outside the exam the atmosphere was mostly of relief, and it seemed that everyone had been mostly successful in their endeavours. Katie Bell had caused a dinner plate to mutate into a large potato and a Slytherin boy had been chased out of the hall in tears by a colony of bats that had erupted out of his wand; but on the most part everything had gone to plan. PJ didn’t seem to have made a single mistake, but he was reluctant to admit this.

“Nah, I bet I got the colour change wrong. I heard purple but I’m starting to think she might actually have said red.”

Chris rolled his eyes. “That’s like, one mark at most. Face it – you’re a genius. I mean, you are in Ravenclaw after all.”

PJ shook his head again. “You know me though, the theory paper will have been a disaster.”

They continued this discussion out on to the grounds and Phil began immediately to search the throngs of students for Dan. The hands that linked comfortably together in front of him were making him jealous, and he wished more than ever that Dan was in his year – not least because he was feeling incredibly guilty for abandoning him so much recently, which wasn’t really needed on top of all the exam stress. Dan was under their favourite tree, curled up apparently asleep with a book over his head. Phil smiled. He crept forwards slowly, before launching himself at the skinny boy and rolling him over into the grass.

Dan’s eyes were wide with alarm, his face just a few centimetres from Phil’s grin. “Jesus Christ Phil. A gentle poke would have been sufficient. I’m guessing it went well then?”

Phil shrugged, burying his face into Dan’s robes. “S’alright I guess. Miss you though. Lion helped.”

“Not long now though, just these two weeks and it’s all over and I get my friends back.” Dan grinned.

Phil’s face fell a little. “Has it been awful? Not having us around so much?”

Dan shook his head. “I’m used to it. It’s not so bad, I’ve been flying a lot.”

“When the exams are over will you teach me to fly?”

“Yeah, of course. This is new. Why the sudden interest?”

“I spent that whole theory paper watching the Ravenclaw team train out the window. And I want an excuse to spend more time with you.”

Dan blushed, touched. “You don’t need an excuse, silly. The exams aren’t your fault and I totally get it. You know me, I’m perfectly happy just to sit in silence while you do your work. I can probably test you on some stuff too; don’t worry Philip, I don’t hate you for not wanting to fail all your exams. Just think, in two years you’ll be doing your Newts and I’ll be doing my OWLs. What a pair we’ll be.”

Phil grinned. In truth, he hadn’t really thought that far ahead, but Dan painted a comfortable vision of their immediate future at Hogwarts. “I will tutor you and you can carry me to my exams when I’m too tired to walk.”

“Sounds like a deal.”

~

There was no time to relax however, as they delved straight into Transfiguration prep for the next day. Phil wasted a good half hour frantically looking up a counter curse after accidentally transfiguring Dan’s ears into two large teapots.

His Herbology exam on Wednesday was a welcome respite, and he spent a peaceful hour caring for a fanged geranium. Defence Against the Dark Arts was underwhelming after so many years of studying violent curses and attacking spells, but at least there were no limbs lost. On Friday he had the day off while PJ sat Arithmancy, and he found Dan waiting for him as he headed down for breakfast.

“Hey, I promise I won’t say anything if you need to revise. I’ve only got one lesson today and I don’t fancy spending another day in the library.” Dan said quickly.

“No, that’s fine don’t worry,” Phil reassured him. “Chris and I don’t have any exams anyway. PJ’s completely stressing out though, Chris is giving him a massage in a broom cupboard.”

Dan raised an eyebrow, but decided not to comment.

“So, how you feeling?”

“A bit dead really.” Phil admitted.

“I think you need a bit of a break. Like, it’s better to go in healthy than go in knowing everything but so stressed out you don’t write any of it down.”

“What do you suggest?” Phil asked.

“I dunno, really. How about we go somewhere and just relax for a bit? You could always take your books with you and do a little bit every now and then.”

Phil nodded, somewhat guiltily pushing his exam timetable back in his bag. “Yeah. I could do with a nap.”

They ended up in the forest, slipping into the shadow of trees under cover of the chaos that was the Care of Magical Creatures exam. The sunlight filtered easily down through the canopy, dappling the earth with pools of gold, shifting and dancing as the wind rustled the leaves. The trees relaxed Phil almost immediately and he smiled happily, taking a big gulp of fresh air. It felt good in his lungs after so many dusty books and cramped classrooms. Dan’s fingers were laced lightly between his own and they walked slowly and easily. They found a sunlit glade where patches of flowers grew in clumps on the forest floor, splashes of colour amongst the moss and bracken. Tiny white wood anemones and summer violets. They sat down amongst the gnarled roots of an old oak tree.

Phil lay down with his head on Dan’s lap and closed his eyes, his hands resting on his chest. Dan’s hands tangled in his hair. His slender fingers traced the contours of Phil’s jaws and drifted over the arches of his lips. Phil’s cheekbones protruded gently and Dan’s fingers dipped and caressed, falling down his neck and over the smooth indentation under his collar bones. Phil’s breathing was slow and relaxed, and Dan smiled as he slipped into a peaceful slumber on his lap, his dark lashes fluttering as he breathed.

After a while of watching Phil sleep, Dan took out his wand, absentmindedly sending falling petals tumbling over one another and floating in the breath. They spun in a heart then flew up together in a flurry of yellow and white. He caught them before the hit the ground and sent them up again, fluttering amongst the leaves and casting dancing shadows on the ground. They spiralled into a tiny tornado before dispersing, hovering motionless in the glade until, with a flick of his wand, Dan sent them shooting into the centre of the cloud to form a pulsating ball of colour. He added a touch of blue and purple to the mix, crafting first a face and then a sea of shifting, white topped waves on which a great galleon of yellow and gold sailed. The image exploded again like a firework, petals swirling and soaring until they were collected by a careful wand movement into hundreds of colourful spheres, almost like bubbles, floating and bobbing through the clearing.

Dan nearly dropped his wand in surprise as a tongue of blue flame shot up in the centre of each bubble. He looked down at Phil in surprise. He’d been so caught up in his game that he hadn’t noticed Phil stir, wake and pull out his own wand.

Phil was smiling fondly up at him. “You’re so cute when you’re happy.” He breathed.

Dan blushed crimson.

Gently, Phil brought the fluctuating bubbles down to where they lay, clustering around their intertwined figures in a haze of gold and blue light.

“Don’t drop them,” Dan smiled. “They’re on fire now. Very dangerous.”

Phil giggled. “Don’t worry, you’re safe with me. For now.”

Phil pulled Dan down into the moss to lay beside him, staring up at the glowing petals. Dan was smiling and Phil was smiling at Dan’s smile. “See, plants are cool.”

“Not with all that fire around, these ones are hot.” Dan said lamely, and Phil groaned.

“What’s the matter?” Dan grinned. “Don’t think I’ll make it as a comedian? My stage name could be ComidiDan.”

“Oh god,” Phil laughed. “You’re worse than Chris.”

“Wow. That’s harsh.” Dan sniggered.

“You’ve stopped looking at the petals.” Phil’s lips twitched, and Dan turned curiously back to the sky.

While he’d been talking to Phil, the bubbles had rearranged themselves above his head and into letters bobbing gently in the sky that spelled out ‘ _Phil loves Dan’_.

Dan’s lips puckered into a smile and he sent a gust of wind to rearrange the names, but Phil was too quick for him, easily counteracting his spell. Dan glowered at him, casting his eyes around the glade. Grinning, he heaved a pile of sticks and logs violently into the air – showering the couple with mud and dirt – and crudely arranged them hanging haphazardly underneath Phil’s bubbles to form the words ‘Dan loves Phil more’.

Phil was not to be beaten so easily and with one, clean movement the twigs burst into brilliant rainbow flame as his lips touched Dan’s.


	10. Luna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A party and an apology

The last exam was Astrology. It took place at midnight, and the moment it had finished a cheer went up that roused all the slumbering lower-years. Dan leapt out of his bed, shrugging off his pyjamas to reveal his clothes still on underneath. The boy in the four poster next to him raised his eyebrows in alarm.

“You can’t be going to the party, surely? You didn’t have any exams and besides, they’ll have locked the castle doors. Only the fifth and seventh-years are allowed out.”

Dan just grinned, adding a final flourish to his hair and sweeping out into the silent corridor. Phil was where he’d promised he’d be, and in no time Dan was swept along with the throng of excited chatter – his height allowing him to blend easily into the boisterous crowd of older students. Teachers ushered them quickly out the castle doors and towards the marquee positioned as far from the dormitories as possible.

Professor McGonagall stepped up onto a podium and pointed her wand at her throat. “Sonorous,” she said, before addressing the crowd – her voice now booming easily over the jostling heads. “My congratulations to you all. You have worked incredibly hard over the past few months, and we are all so very proud of you. Now is not the time to worry about your results however; that will wait till July. Now is the time to celebrate. We ask only that you remain responsible and do not disturb the other years, either now or when returning to your dormitories. The curfew is four thirty, anyone attempting to disregard this curfew will be severely punished. We are allowing your party, but please, do not push it. Good night, and good luck.”

~

Butterbeer flowed freely and everyone seemed too caught up in the celebrations to take much notice of the third year tag along, which suited Dan perfectly. Chris, with his seemingly endless supply of energy, was still dancing enthusiastically on the multi-coloured dance floor, his arms wind milling violently and nearly taking out a willowy seventh year as she passed with a tray of drinks. Phil and Carrie were arm in arm attempting to perfect an Irish jig while PJ and Dan sat comfortably up against one of the supporting pillars. PJ had attempted to rustle up a pair of chairs but seemed to be considerably more intoxicated than he’d originally assumed, and the three-legged, distorted hunks of wood lay pitifully out on the grass, abandoned under the moonlight.

“He’s such an idiot.” PJ said fondly, staring out at Chris as he flung his legs up in the air one after the other, hideously out of time with the music.

Dan smiled. “I’m going to have to agree with you there.” Chris had overestimated a leap and lost his balance, toppling over to land in a tangled heap of long limbs on the floor. He sprung back up like a jack-in-the-box however, and in no time he was on the floor attempting the worm.

PJ snorted into his drink as Chris writhed towards him, a glazed grin in his eyes. Phil was returning too, out of breath and pink in the cheeks with Carrie, laughing, still on his arm.

“Beaten by the dance floor?” PJ smiled. “I’m disappointed.”

“Nope,” Chris pulled himself to his feet. “Just came to get you two lazy lumps. Come on, it’s time to express yourselves!”

Chris pulled them both up by the hands and now it was Phil’s turn to watch and laugh as Dan was spun in circles. At the height of his spin, Chris let go and sent Dan tumbling and reeling dizzily into the crowd. After apologizing profusely to the seventh years whose drinks he had spilled, Dan charged back on to the dancefloor with revenge in his eyes. Chris was dipping PJ dramatically, his eyes sparkling under the lanterns, and Dan clattered into the pair, tumbling them over with ease. Phil sniggered as they wrestled, while Carrie tsked. She tried several times to strike up a conversation with Phil, but he paid little attention to her and she got up again, annoyed, and headed back to the drinks table. She was filling her goblet with bubbling blue punch when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Suzie Spinner stood behind her, looking awkward.

“Hi,” she began. “I know it’s been a while. Listen, I just wanted to say I’m really sorry for what happened. I get that sorry isn’t going to cut it but I never said it and I haven’t been able to forgive myself. I don’t know what happened, something just came over me and I didn’t care about anyone else – not even enough to think about Phil for, like, at least three days. And then it was too late, but I just want him to know that I am sorry. Really, truly I am. He didn’t deserve that and I miss him. Will you tell him?”

Carrie bristled. “You can tell him yourself.”

Suzie’s doleful eyes turned downcast to the floor and her shoulders slumped, and Carrie softened, unable to remain cold when presented with such an explicit display of misery.

“Look,” she sighed. “I’ll tell him you spoke to me but I really don’t think that’s going to change the way he feels about it all. It’s been way too long. He’s over it all and he’s moved on, you’re months too late.”

Suzie sighed, tucking a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. “I want to talk to him. I mean it when I say I miss him. He was the sweetest person I’ve ever met, but like you say – it’s too late. It took me too long to figure out how I felt.” She paused for a moment, turning to the dance floor where Dan was attempting to teach Phil a shaky version of the Slytherin Slide. “Him and Dan, are they, are they serious? Phil always told me he was straight. Do you think it could just be a phase? Like a summer fling type thing?”

Carrie stiffened once more. “They’ve been together since Christmas holidays I think. Yes, they’re serious. I don’t think you’re going to get Phil back, Suzie. You said it yourself – your relationship was on the rocks for ages. You didn’t gel well together.”

“We gelled perfectly!” Suzie said, offended. “You don’t know anything about our relationship. Do you think we would have got together if we didn’t get on? We fought, but so does every couple. It’s a sign of a healthy relationship – not being prepared to put up with each other’s shit. Putting your foot down every once in a while.”

“Except with you it was every few minutes.” Carrie said cuttingly.

Suzie narrowed her eyes. “I do believe you’re jealous. I’ve always known you’ve have a crush on Phil, and now I’m gone you think you’ve got a chance. I bet Dan and Phil aren’t even serious and you’re just saying that to get rid of me. I’ve never liked you, Carrie Fletcher. You try too hard with your ‘aren’t I such a nice little princess’ act. Driving everyone crazy with your fundraising for ‘save the bloody squirrels’ or whatever it is while there are real causes out there that desperately need money, saving lives and changing the world. Except we’ve been bullied into giving all our money to squirrels who were doing just fine without us. I will tell him. Just you wait.”

Suzie flounced away, her pink dress rippling as she walked, her hair sleek and shiny under the canopy. Carrie glared after her, a stream of silent insults beaming from her eyes. She turned slowly back to where Dan and Phil were dancing, and she sighed.

~

“I lub you.”

“I love you more.”

“I love PJ.”

“I love cake.”

“I loooove Dan.”

“I love me, too.”

“Let’s get married.”

“I need to marry Phil. I can’t marry you, Peej.”

“No, you can’t – Peej you’re marrying me.”

“Let’s have eight babies.”

“Or one baby with eight heads.”

“That’s an octopus.”

“No it s’not,”

“Yes it is,”

“No, octopuses have eight legs. Or is it arms?”

“Octopuses. I think it’s octopi, guys.”

“Is it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where’s Carrie?”

“Dead.”

“Oh, okay. Where’s the castle?”

“I dunno. Are we not in the castle?”

“Dunno but I’m tired. Going to bed now, night guys.”

“Where you going to bed?”

“Here?”

“Okay, me too. Night Chris.”

“Night Peej.”

“Night Dan. Wait, you’re not Dan – you’re Phil.”

“No I’m not,”

“No not you, Phil.”

“What?”

“Never mind. Night. Love you guys.”

“Love you.”

“Night.”

~

~

Phil wasn’t the only one who had end of year exams, but Dan was taking a considerably more lax view on his.

“Come on Dan,” Phil sighed. “Gamp’s Laws of Transfiguration. This is first year stuff.”

Dan harrumphed dramatically. “Gamp’s Laws of Elemental Transfiguration. Fundamental principles for performing transfiguration, things which we have to earn ourselves. Food, money, life, love and knowledge.”

Phil nodded approvingly. “So how do we get food?”

“It can be summoned if it’s already been made, and you know where it is obviously. It can be multiplied and divided but that’s about it.”

“And which one’s the most important?”

“Life. You can’t wake up dead people, once you’re dead you dead son.”

Phil rolled his eyes. “You do know it, you’re just too lazy to find it in your head. Okay, next: colour change. This one’s easy I won’t even be able to look at you if you don’t get it. Wand movement?”

“Counter-clockwise loop, starting at the bottom of the thing.”

“Incantation for decolourising something?”

“Absentia Pigmento.”

“What about gold coins to silver?”

“Aurum Ad Argentum.” 

“Good job kiddo.”

“I will punch you.”

“Are you sure you can reach?”

“Hey! I’m like two inches shorter than you. Tops.”

Phil patted Dan on the head with a wink, narrowly avoiding Dan’s fist as he swung a playful punch.

“How long’s it been since you dipped into Standard Book of Spells?” Phil grinned, cuddling back up to Dan’s shoulder.

“Oh god. Do I really need to know the theory for all the simple spells?”

“They’re the ones they ask, remember – they’re not trying to find out how well you revise, they’re trying to find out whether or not you can sensibly move up to the next year. I’ve done this four times now, I am a pro at end-of-years.”

“Okay,” said Dan with a sigh. “Hit me.”

Phil, of course, obliged, and Dan swore moodily at him. With a chuckle, Phil turned back to his rather battered textbook and flicked it open. “Which one’s it gonna be? Will you be unlocking the secrets of Alohamora? Repairing your knowledge with a quick Reparo?” A grin stretched over Phil’s face at the sight of Dan’s pained expression. “Soaring to victory with help from Wingardium Leviosa? Or softening the blow of failure with Spongify?”

Dan groaned, covering his face with his hands. Phil only continued gleefully.

“Will Res Momentum send you charging into the lead? Your bond to the third year severed with a quick Diffindo? Sealed into fourth year with Colloportus?”

“The only spell I need right now is Avada Kedavra.” Dan muttered darkly.

~

He was saved, if only momentarily, by the arrival of Phil’s owl Eric. Dan ran his fingers gently through the bird’s soft feathers while Phil read a letter from his parents, congratulating him on completing his exams. Eric hooted happily, pressing the soft down of his belly into Dan’s fingers, his eyes half closed. Dan smiled. “I wish I had an owl,” he said, rubbing the owl’s belly. “Pets are really cool. It’s like a cuddly, warm, actual life in your arms and it’s yours to care for and cherish. Much better than plants.”

Phil looked up at him thoughtfully. “Why don’t you get one then?”

Dan shrugged. “They’re expensive. And I live in a muggle town remember, a pet owl is a bit conspicuous.”

Phil watched the way Dan cradled Eric fondly in his arms, a half smile playing across his lips.

~

“Close your eyes.”

“What? Why?”

“I have a surprise for you. A present.”

“What do you mean a present? It’s not my birthday.”

“No, but we haven’t figured out if we can meet up over the summer yet so I might miss it. Also I was a terrible boyfriend all through exams and I wanted to say sorry. Now close your eyes.”

“I feel like you’re going to murder me or something.”

“I think I would probably try a bit harder to be subtle if that was my intention. Walk forwards.”

“Where are we going?”

“Just round the corner. That’s just Chris, don’t panic. Also PJ. Sorry about your foot. Okay. Stop. Sit.”

“Phil…”

“Move your hands. I need to put it on your lap.”

“Phil… -Oh.”

“Open your eyes.”

Dan stared down at the tiny black kitten pawing nervously at his legs. “ _Oh._ ” He said again.

“Do you like her?” Phil asked anxiously. “You said you wanted an animal but an owl wouldn’t be practical, and muggles have cats right?”

“She’s perfect,” Dan beamed. “How old is she?”

“Just a couple of months. She’s probably a lot smarter than muggle cats, but I don’t know I’ve never met one.”

“Does she have a name?” Dan asked, gently stroking the small kitten’s silky fur and allowing her to smell his fingers, her tongue warm and wet against his skin.

“Not yet. You can name her.”

“That’s way too much responsibility. You’ll have to help me.”

“She’s yours, it’s your job. You don’t have to think of one straight away.”

“Where did you get her?”

“Hogsmeade. She was the runt of the litter, but I think she was the best one there – have you seen her eyes? They’re unusual, don’t you think, for a cat?”

The kitten’s eyes were a pale, translucent blue that stared beseechingly up at Dan, contrasting sharply against the jet-black fur. “She’s beautiful,” he smiled. The kitten mewled in response, licking his fingers and rubbing her tiny body against his arm.

They were in the Hufflepuff common room. It was late, well past midnight, and the room was dark and abandoned bar the four boys huddled round the embers of the dying fire. Moonlight filled the room. It cast shadows over the shapes of tables and chairs and abandoned belongings strewn across the room with a comfortable homeliness. A game of gobstones on one table and a pack of cards. A summer cloak hung over the back of a chair. A yellow and black scarf wound around a pillar. Dan’s eyes were drawn however to the window, where the black night was bathed in silver light. Stars twinkled peacefully and the moon was full. The kitten on his lap followed the direction of his gaze, her eyes as glowing and pale as the moon she stared at. Dan too was looking at the white orb, and he smiled suddenly.

“I have a name,” he turned to the small cat and she fixed him with her wide eyes. “Luna.”

PJ smiled at him, reaching over stroke the velvet of the cat’s ears. “That’s a good name. The night is on her fur and the moon is in her eyes. When we got her it was raining, and the water droplets sparkled like stars all over her fur.”

Dan blushed. “There’s another reason, too. When I was in first year there was a girl called Luna in Ravenclaw – she was the only person who ever tried to speak to me. I was muggleborn, coming to Hogwarts was scary and she helped. She was really nice. She’s in the year above now though obviously, so I haven’t spoken to her since the beginning of second year.”

Dan took a deep breath. “By the way, I should probably tell you the reason I had to retake my second year. It’s kinda embarrassing, but everyone thinking I was just really stupid is worse. The only reason I kept it secret is because I was in Slytherin, and well basically we ran out of money massively halfway through my second year. My parents wrote to me and told me they’d have to sell the house if I wanted to stay, so I left – I told the school I was really sick. They kept writing to me though, asking when I was coming back, and eventually I just told them I’d decided that magic wasn’t for me and I was dropping out. It was awful. I thought it was all over, but then Professor McGonagall rung me up on our muggle house phone. It was crazy. She wanted to know why I’d dropped out, what they’d missed and if they could help me and you know McGonagall, you can’t lie to her. So I told her and then she told me I was an idiot. Because Hogwarts have a trust fund for kids who can’t afford stuff and money was no excuse and if I wasn’t on the train again in September she’d come to my house and drag me to school herself. Obviously I’d missed most of the year though so I had to retake which sucked a lot. The only reason I hadn’t told the truth was because I already get so much stick about my parents, it would have been the icing on the cake. But that’s why I didn’t have any friends – because originally I hung out with Luna and then everyone thought I’d flunked a whole year.” Dan shrugged. “So yeah, I’m calling her Luna.

Phil wrapped his arms around Dan’s shoulders, burying his face into Dan’s hair. “It’s a pretty name. And you have us now.”

Dan nodded happily. “I have you. And now I have Luna again, too.”


	11. Summer Sweat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> School’s out for the summer and Dan visits Phil. The sun is hot and Phil wants to make the most of their first real alone time, but Dan’s not so sure. They have ‘the talk’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written bc youtube and consent and yeah it’s a good thing to say sometimes u feel? sorry it’s so late i made it twice as long to make up for it though so you’re basically getting two chapters pls love me

The Scarlett Steam engine nestled into the platform with a satisfying hiss and clunk of pistons. Buzzing chatter filled the small space with an air of excitement tinged with sadness as students prepared to bid each other goodbye. It was somewhat hectic, pets and luggage strewn across the grass at one end of the platform and students in casual clothes desperately trying to find each other among the throng, reluctant to get on the train in case there was someone they had missed. Dan clung to Phil’s arm as they fought their way through the crowd. PJ was balanced precariously atop a trunk using Chris’s head to steady himself and waving frantically over the heads of the crowd. Dan spotted Carrie’s mane of blonde curls bobbing towards PJ from one direction while Charlie swept in Piggy-back on Ella Patrick’s shoulders. PJ disappeared momentarily to hug goodbye a group of Ravenclaws and then they were at his side, everyone talking over one another as they searched for familiar faces.

Charlie was first to board the train, promising to save them a compartment, and Ella went off with two blonde twins from Slytherin. Chris had managed to gather up the Gryffindor Quidditch team and was bidding them an emotional goodbye while Phil was shaking hands with boys from his dormitory. Dan felt a little awkward surrounded in displays of affection. He would be travelling home with most of his friends, and he’d already said his other goodbyes. He couldn’t help feeling immensely happy however when he compared this scene to that of the year before, when he had headed straight on to the train to sit alone with a book while he waited for it to depart.

~

“You’re going to have to teach me how to use a phone when we get into Kings Cross,” Phil said as they slumped down in their seats and pushed bags and coats into the overhead. “Those weird red boxes, right? And I need to get muggle money too. I’m scared already.”

“We can do a trial run if you want,” Dan said with a laugh. “I’ve got my mobile with me.”

“Really?! Why did you never tell me this? Can I see it?”

“It’s flat. The battery, that is. There’s nowhere to charge it in the castle – I was gonna do it in the station.”

“Aw,” Phil said, disappointed. “I bet someone on the train knows how to do it. There are loads of muggleborns at Hogwarts, I’ve definitely seen people using Elektricity before. I mean you can’t in the castle but there’s a blind spot on the other side of the lake they all go to.”

“Really?” Dan frowned. “I don’t know how to transfer magic to electrical energy though, and I don’t want to break my phone.”

“Just ask someone.”

“Good idea,”

“Better be quick then, as soon as we’re out of the grounds you’re not allowed to use magic. Well. Most people do on the train but you don’t wanna risk it.”

“I’m not just going round knocking on doors Phil, you’ll have to wait.” Dan rolled his eyes.

“No need,” Phil said cheerfully. “I just saw a first year walk past the door with a mobile. Come on!”

Phil dragged Dan protesting out into the corridor as they chased down a small boy with mousy hair and freckles.

The first year stammered as he was stopped by the two much taller boys, but happily explained to Dan that he wasn’t converting as such, he was just using a normal solar charger and then shining light from his wand to speed up the process. Phil watched in awe as the small phone whirred into life. In less than thirty seconds that battery was full, and Dan let out a low whistle.

“I’m never going to use anything else ever again. Thanks so much!”

~

Dan made the mistake of introducing Phil to flappy bird and lost his phone for half an hour (very nearly forever, at least after Phil threw it angrily at the window out of frustration. Chris acted just in time and slammed it shut while PJ caught the phone. Consequently Phil’s gaming privileges were taken away for the remainder of the journey and it was Charlie’s turn to attempt to beat Dan’s high score of thirty-six). The conversation had lapsed into comfortable silence. PJ and Charlie were both reading and Phil was whistling quietly as he played a half-hearted game of chess against Dan. His whistles grew steadily shriller as he entered the emotional chorus of his song and Chris threw a scarf at him.

“Hey, Phil,” Dan said suddenly. “Wanna hear some muggle music?”

“Yeah! Do you have it on your phone? That thing is crazy.”

Dan nodded, scrolling quickly through his track list looking for something suitably mind blowing. He settled on Muse, diving to the bottom of his bag for a pair of headphones.

“You have to listen to it through these,” he explained. “It does play out loud but the speaker quality is awful and I want your first experience of the music of my people to be life changing.”

Phil’s expression was somewhat sceptical as he allowed Dan to push the little buds into his ears.

“This does not feel safe or comfortable.” he grumbled, but Dan just made a shushing motion at him.

He bit his lip. “I’m not sure what song to pick,” he admitted. “Okay. Give it time, it’s very different. We don’t use lutes and cellos anymore. At least, not in pop or rock or anything. There’s a lot of electricity in this one. You ready? Tell me if it’s too loud.”

Phil nodded and Dan held his breath as he hit play.

There was a moment of silence as everyone stared curiously at Phil, then his eyes popped and his jaw dropped.

“I can’t hear anything?” Chris said, confused.

“Only Phil can, that’s how it works,” Dan grinned. “So that everyone can listen to whatever they want in peace and without being a dick to whoever they’re with.”

“That’s so antisocial,” PJ muttered. “It’s weird.”

“Well?” Dan asked, amused. Phil’s expression was a picture. “What do you think?”

“Everything’s very loud and very fast and I am very scared. I do not understand these noises.”

Dan laughed. “Do you want me to turn it down?”

“No! It’s a little overwhelming but I think I want to murder someone. Possibly many people, I haven’t decided yet. There’s so much elektrissy!”

“Electricity.” Dan snorted.

“WHAT?”

Chris and PJ jumped.

“Shhhh,” Dan laughed, clamping his hand over Phil’s mouth. “I think the chorus just kicked in. You can’t hear as much because of the music, so you speak louder but you don’t realise you’re doing it.”

“Sorry,” Phil attempted a whisper but PJ winced and Dan shushed again. “I think I like it? There are lots of sounds I’ve never heard before, and I like that. I like that a lot. The guy singing sounds like the one from the Weird Sisters. And it is making me very emotional. My heart’s beating really fast though I think I might die.”

Dan chuckled. “I wanna play it out loud so everyone can hear, but I don’t have any speakers.”

“You could try a spell?” PJ suggested. “Sonorous probably?”

Dan bit his lip. “That might work, but I don’t want to break my phone. They’re really expensive. I don’t really know how most spells work to be honest – I mean if that does something to your voicebox then it wouldn’t work on a phone.”

PJ shook his head. “I’m pretty sure it just amplifies the sound waves as soon as they leave your mouth, so it should work on this.”

Dan considered for a moment, then nodded. “Okay, let’s try it. Give it here Phil – sorry, okay, Peej will you do it? I’m ready.”

“One sec,”

“Okay,”

“This band’s called My Chemical Romance by the way, let me pick a song.”

“Just a normal sonarus?”

“Is it ready?”

 “Yeah I’m just trying to choose something sensible it’s-”

“Okay I’m gonna..”

“Hang on let me just make sure-”

_‘WE DON’T GIVE A FUUUUUUUUUUUUU-’_

“…..”

“Oops.”

~

Dan’s house seemed even smaller after the vastness of the Hogwarts Castle. The first year he’d been away he’d missed his parents terribly, but this year he hadn’t even come home for Christmas. His mum pulled him into a tight hug and his dad wrapped his long arms around the pair of them as they stood blocking the barrier at King’s Cross. Taking a deep breath Dan had pulled away and tugged Phil towards him. Phil had shuffled his feet awkwardly, staring down at the ground, but at Dan’s introduction he’d looked up with a tentative smile.

“Mum, dad, this is Phil,” Dan took a deep breath. “My boyfriend.”

It was a lot to take in and his parents certainly made a valiant effort, his mum managing to stutter out a ‘nice to meet you!’ after only a brief moment of crippling silence. His Dad had shaken Phil’s hand while his mum opted for a slightly awkward hug. The disbelief was written across their faces as they watched Dan try to teach Phil how to use a payphone, but there were smiles all around as Phil’s family had arrived and introductions were made. Dan was to stay with Phil for two weeks before the start of term, and much as he’d missed his parents he was already looking forward to it.

~

“Daniel dear, I’ve just had a thought,”

Dan’s mum was flustered as she turned again to the map, one eye on the road. “Will they have anywhere to park? I mean, they get around on  _broomsticks_. I can’t put the car in a broom shed!”

Dan refrained from rolling his eyes. “They live in the middle of nowhere, mum. I’m sure there’ll be space. In a driveway or something. There aren’t exactly traffic wardens out here.”

“True, true…”

Dan returned to watching the countryside flash past out of the window. Phil only lived an hour away from Dan, down a series of narrow, winding lanes where the tiny green grass tips sprouted up through the tarmac in the middle of the road. Cows ambled lazily through the fields and a pair of ponies ran along beside the car for a while before getting bored and returning to their lunch.

“Dan, can you navigate for me? I can’t tell the roads are all so small – do we want the next left or is that a driveway?”

“That’s a river, mum.”

“Oh. The one after?”

“Yep.”

“Okay. Honestly Dan I’m wishing I hadn’t agreed to stay the night. I mean they’re _wizards_  – what am I going to do? I’ll look like such a fool. I won’t be able to do anything!”

“It’s fine, mum. Remember neither me nor Phil can use magic yet – it’ll all be perfectly normal.”

“Yes but do they have cutlery or do they just levitate their food into their mouths? I can’t very well use my hands!”

“Christ, mum, calm down. Obviously not –  _we_  use knives and forks same as you. Emphasis on the we. You’re going to have to get used to it, because in a few years it’ll be me, too.”

“Right, yes, sorry. I’m a little nervous.”

“I can tell.”

“I wish your father hadn’t cried off on a bloody business trip.”

“It’s fine mum seriously, I’m sure they’re all very nice.”

“Well, yes, they did seem very friendly.” She sighed. “Okay, next left?”

“Next left.”

~

Phil’s house was both everything and nothing like how Dan had imagined as wizard’s house to be. It was big, many times the size of Dan’s house, and it sprawled out across the countryside with misshapen buildings and strange turrets. At one end a huge, glass dome balanced precariously in a dangerously narrow tower with its own perfect, pink cloud hovering just above it. Even from the outside the house was warm and inviting. Large windows, a heavy oak door and walls made from rust coloured stones and slabs. Climbing roses covered most of the front of the house in startling shades of blue and violet, and a great tree seemed to be supporting the left hand side of the building where it arched up away from the ground and into the canopy. Blossoming flowers lined the driveway and Dan’s mum pulled over awkwardly into the dirt a little way from the front door.

“I don’t want to run over any of those bloody plants,” she muttered, taking a deep breath before swinging open the door.

Dan breathed in the sweet scent of dirigible plums as he stepped out into the warm air. He could see them floating just in front of his mum and he pointed them out gleefully. Her eyes widened. With Dan not allowed to do magic outside of school her experience had been very limited. A few trips to Diagon Alley and car journeys to take Dan far enough out of town to ride his broom. Tentatively, she touched the soft, fleshy skin. The plum darted away, nestling shyly under the leaves and she jumped.

“That’s crazy. How are you supposed to eat them? And  _why_? What’s wrong with normal plums?!”

Dan chuckled. “These ones taste better. They make the pie a bit lighter, too.”

His mum closed her eyes briefly. “Okay. Let’s get this over with. Hold my hand in case I faint.”

Dan grinned as he led his mum up the gravelled pathway. Two tall ferns parted to let them past, the soft tendrils brushing their faces, and Dan heard a bell ring somewhere in the house.

“I think that was the doorbell.” Dan remarked.

His mum just sighed quietly on his arm.

The heavy wood swung forwards and Phil was framed grinning in the doorway before he sprinted towards Dan and pulled him into an embrace. After seeing each other every day for half a year, the summer had been long. They wrote to each other and spoke on the phone, and Dan had even managed to talk Phil through using video messaging at an internet café. Phil had promised to get a floo network link installed in Dan’s living room the second he turned seventeen. Dan had seen the way heads and lonely body parts could pop up in a fireplace without warning and didn’t think his mum would be too keen on the proposal.

Phil’s mother came to the door and greeted them both warmly.

“Oh, Dan, have you brought Luna with you? Phil told me all about her. I love cats, David won’t let me get one though because he thinks the dogs wouldn’t like it.”

“You have dogs?” Dan said, surprised.

“Yes, did Phil not tell you? We have three! I’ve got them locked in the back garden though, they’re very affectionate and I figured you’d probably pass on the dog saliva shower.”

~

The dogs were all large and boisterous, with floppy ears and shaggy fur. A yellow Labrador named Sunny was the first to greet Dan with a very wet kiss. The other two were sisters, mongrels with traces of something very furry, and they wasted no time in dragging Dan and Phil out for a game of fetch while their parents made small talk in the kitchen. Dan was thankful for how normal everything had seemed – at least in the two rooms they’d walked through – as already his mum was starting to relax. He remembered how he’d felt when he’d first arrived at Hogwarts, and he was glad his mum had people as nice as Phil’s parents to help her through it.

The dogs with their seemingly limitless energy got the better of Dan in less than ten minutes and he slumped down next to Phil on the grass.

Phil smiled fondly at him. “It’s good to have you back. I’ve missed you.”

“Me too,” Dan smiled, flushed. “Already the world seems a little brighter.”

Phil threw a hunk of grass at Dan’s face. “Hey. I was being serious.”

“Me too.”

“Right. House tour time?”

“Yes please!” Dan jumped eagerly to his feet, his energy recovered instantly, pulling Phil up after him with a laugh.

Phil started at the end where the tree (was it oak? Was it beech? Dan couldn’t quite tell, it was larger in both girth and height than any tree he’d seen) supported the building. A progression of thin grooves dipped into the thick trunk in the shape of a winding spiral stair, and Dan eyed them somewhat dubiously. Phil watched him for a moment, grinning, before reaching up to pull on a branch. Instantly the grooves deepened and the wood swelled outwards into an easily climbable route up into the canopy. Phil led the way and Dan followed, marvelling at the way the steps shrunk back into the tree almost as soon as his feet had left them. A low archway led them into a cabin type room; light and airy, with no glass in the circular windows, that contained a hewn wooden table and a pair of empty easels.

“It’s kinda a studio I guess,” Phil explained. “We all like to paint. It’s also good for bird watching. Or storm watching. The windows repel water and we light a fire under the table. It’s pretty atmospheric – me and my brother built it one summer, a bit like muggles build treehouses but better.” Phil winked.

A tunnel-like walkway led them down into the main body of the house but Phil didn’t seem interested in the stairs, instead jumping to the left where the wood was smoothed into a slick curve and sliding down with a whoop. Dan followed, laughing.

“Come on, don’t tell me you haven’t always wanted a slide in your house.” Phil said with a grin as Dan landed with a soft thwump on a pile of cushions.

“It’s brilliant.” Dan said, breathless.

“Okay, this way!” Phil said, clearly enjoying himself. They passed through a comfortable sitting room and then the spacious kitchen, calling out their hellos to the gossiping parents. A pantry stocked with enough food to make Dan’s mouth water lay just to the left of the kitchen and then another, much smaller living room – a cluster of squashy armchairs around a massive fireplace.

“That’s our floo link,” Phil said as they passed. He gestured through another pair of wooden doorways. “Study and the dog’s room. Yes, they get their own room. They make such a mess it’s easier just to contain them – their beds and food bowls and stuff are in there, and their mountains of infuriating squeaky toys. Sometimes I think my dad loves those dogs more than he’s ever loved me or my brother.”

Dan laughed. “Upstairs?”

“Best bit.” Phil grinned.

Most of the inside of the house was built from light coloured wood and the staircase was no different, but Dan’s eyes were caught by the railings: intricately carved into twisting vines crawling with tiny wooden butterflies and a pair of hissing snakes.

“This is so cool,” he breathed, but Phil dragged him onwards impatiently.

“Wait stop, this is the best window in the house,” Phil pulled Dan to his side. “That’s our garden.”

Dan let out a low whistle. It stretched as far as he could see in every direction. There were neat rows of flowers and vegetables but beyond was a sprawling jungle that somehow managed to look well-kept and orderly despite the wildness in the swaying foliage.

“It’s a bit over the top,” Phil grinned. “My dad’s had to put a bunch of concealment charms on it. It’s cool though – we’re breeding some really rare plants and we enter it in competitions sometimes. My mum cares for it most of the time obviously, but I bring home all my plants at the end of the school year and my brother travels a lot with the ministry so he brings back crazy tropical plants sometimes. We’ve got a cactus that literally self-destructs if you get to close and then regrows from a little seedling. We were pulling spines out of Sunny for weeks. I’m pretty sure he’s traumatised now, he starts whining whenever he sees a cactus.”

“Ouch,” Dan winced. “That sounds painful.”

Phil nodded. “My dad wanted to murder us all. Okay – this is my room.”

The walls were pale blue with fluffy white clouds painted all around the room and a midnight blue sky on the ceiling, speckled with shimmering stars that seemed to be emitting their own glittery light. The wall closest to Dan was covered completely in posters. The images were all moving, of course, and it made Dan’s eyes hurt a little as a hundred different glossy faces blinked and waved. Luna had been brought up to the room by Phil’s mum to keep her out of harm’s way, and she sprang up off the bed to rub against Dan’s legs with a mewl. He picked up the tiny cat and cradled her in his arms, rubbing at the soft fur behind her ears. Phil’s Hogwarts trunk was propped up in one corner, covered in a pile of freshly laundered towels, and his spell books littered a rickety wooden desk. He had a bookshelf too, reaching all the way from the floor to the ceiling, and a marble chess set topped with clear glass pieces that looked like they’d smash pretty brutally if they were lost.

“Yeah, it’s not that special,” Phil said, abashed, but Dan just shook his head.

“It’s amazing. Coolest room I’ve ever seen.” Dan’s eyes were drawing to the glowing orb on the ceiling that filled the room with yellow light. He suspected the little sun would turn slowly into a moon as the real sun fell outside. Eric’s cage stood empty on a stand by an open window next to Phil’s telescope, set up and angled out across the fields. A miniature model of the solar system hovered in a darkened corner of the room – each little planet floating and spinning slowly.

“I used to have fish, but they died.” Phil said absent-mindedly.

Dan nodded with a snort. “Okay. Where am I staying?”

“In here, if that’s okay? My mum’s going to put up a camp bed. We do have a spare room, but my brother’s coming home with his girlfriend on Friday so it seems stupid to set you up in there only to move you.”

“Yeah that’s totally fine,” Dan reassured him. “What’s the crazy glass dome thing at the other end of the house?”

Phil’s lips stretched into a grin. “The coolest room in this house by a long way. That’s where my dad does his work while he’s at home. It’s a magic retaining sphere, no matter what you do everything is kept inside and all you can see from the outside are some weird lights – if the spells are strong enough, that is. I can’t use magic but I can show you some things, if he’s got them out.”

~

Dan and Phil were breathless by the time they reached the top of the narrow spiral staircase. The dome had an eerie, echoing silence about it. Dan could see the fields and forests in a 360 all around but the bend in the glass made the image warped and stretched, shimmering slightly as if there was something obscuring in the air. Phil waited until he was sure Dan was looking at him then grinned before stepping off the edge of the platform into thin air.

Dan jerked forwards automatically in a vain attempt to catch him, but there was no need for Phil hadn’t fallen to the floor– he was floating ever so slightly, still firmly upright but wavering as if standing on a waterbed – only there was nothing at all under Phil’s feet, at least, nothing visible.

“How are you doing that?” Dan breathed.

“Try it. Just step forwards. Don’t worry, you’re not going to fall.”

It was like stepping onto a cloud. His feet sank a little underneath him and he wobbled uncontrollably – convinced he was about to fall over. Phil was barely containing his laughter as he watched Dan’s arms windmill frantically as he took a few shaky steps.

“You get used to it. It’s better if you just don’t think about it. Actually, close your eyes.”

All at once, the ground felt solid beneath Dan’s feet and his balance was regained. His heartbeat started to slow in his chest and he took a few steadying breaths.

“It’s just your brain that makes you freak out so much, because it’s convinced you should be dying. It’s kind of an optical illusion. Open?”

Dan’s eyes opened cautiously and he immediately regained the sense of insecurity, but he was better now. He had accepted the fact that the ground was, in fact, firm.

“Okay,” Phil said, satisfied Dan wasn’t about to pass out. “Watch this.”

Phil lifted his leg as if to climb a stair and put his foot down in the air, only it seemed to connect with something and he started to ascend towards the glass rood. Dubiously, Dan too tried to find an invisible staircase, but to no avail as his foot buckled underneath him and he nearly toppled over.

Phil chuckled, settling down in an invisible armchair several feet above Dan and leaning back.

“This takes even more practice. You have to use your mind, you have to believe that your foot is going to connect with something and you’re going to climb up. If you believe enough you can even swim in it and then basically you’re flying – it’s about the determination in your steps. It’s a really powerful charm, my Dad and all his work friends cast it together and it took like three hours but it’s so worth it. They all have things like this at their houses, and they’re all crazy cool in some way because they’re trying to outdo each other. My dad argues that this allows him to do his spell casting in as much space as he needs but really it’s just to impress people – I  mean it’s so unnecessary but so fun.”

Dan agreed. His problem however was that he believed far too strongly that he was walking on nothing.

~

A colony of pale purple and yellow butterflies fluttered around the sun orb on Phil’s ceiling. Dan assumed they’d flown in through the window but Phil admitted they were another charm, he’d had them since he was little in the same way muggles put swinging mobiles above their children’s cots.

“Wanna see the best bit about this room? It’s the only room in the house that has it because it’s the only bit with the flat roof. My brother’s always been so jealous.”

Dan nodded eagerly and Phil reached for the wall beside his bookcase. With a flick of a switch the ceiling above their heads folded away into nothingness to let the light stream down and fill the room with gold. The sun was warm on Dan’s skin, and he smiled. Luna stretched luxuriously and curled up in the pool of sunlight by the open window. Phil lay back on his bed, staring up at the clouds, and Dan lay down next to him.

“This is so cool.”

“It’s best at night,” Phil smiled, “I’ll have to show you. There’s no muggle houses nearby so you can see all the stars. We have telescopes too – massive ones. I can show you all the constellations and planets, much better than at school.”

Phil rolled over to face Dan, reaching over to tuck a stray tendril of hair behind Dan’s ear.

“I really did miss you.” He murmured.

“Me too.” Dan said.

“Two whole weeks with no lessons or dormitories or curfews or houses or anything.”

“You’re a soppy git.”

“Thank you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

Dan reached forwards to press a kiss to Phil’s lips. The sun felt like a warm bath on his skin and his fingers tangled lazily in Phil’s hair. Phil’s arms were snug around his waist and his lips melted into Dan’s as the familiar warmth of closeness spread through their bodies. It was very warm. Hot, actually, the duvet sticking to Dan’s slightly damp skin. Without thinking he shrugged out of his shirt and Phil quickly followed suit, casting them aside in a bundle on the floor. Phil kissed Dan’s burning forehead and trailed his lips over the flush in Dan’s cheeks. He kissed the shiny spot at the tip of Dan’s nosed and his fringe tickled Dan’s eyelashes, making him blink and screw up his eyes. Phil traced the crinkles in Dan’s skin with his finger and touched his lips to the tiny pucker of a dimple in Dan’s cheek.

Dan’s long legs were tangled in Phil’s, the skinny jeans hot and uncomfortable as he tried to bend his knees and shift on the bed. Phil seemed to be having the same thought as he was discarding his now, blushing as Dan giggled at the colourful hippogriff print boxers. Dan’s own briefs were plain and grey and Phil shook his head disapprovingly.

“I’ll have to get you some better ones. You’re so boring.”

Dan sniggered, wrapping his tanned legs around Phil’s pasty midriff as he sat amidst the pillows and holding him still before toppling him over and pulling him into an embrace. Dan was on top of him now, their faces just a few centimetres apart. He could feel Phil’s hot breath against his lips as it came out quickly and unevenly. He lowered his head to kiss Phil again, shivering as Phil snaked his hands up Dan’s. His fringe was long and floppy and fell in front of his face, making them both laugh as they attempted to bat it out of the way with only their faces and inevitably only ended up crashing their noses together. Phil’s cheeks were pink and his hair was slightly damp with perspiration. It stuck to his forehead and Dan pushed it aside gently, catching a bead of moisture on his fingertip.

A leg was digging painfully into Dan’s stomach and he shifted awkwardly, his arms already growing tired of holding up his weight. They were both trying to shuffle together without gouging out any eyeballs or internal organs, sniggering as they discovered just how many limbs they had to negotiate. Dan’s elbow hit Phil’s ribs and Phil kneed Dan in the crotch as he convulsed involuntarily. With a wince of pain and sigh of exasperation Dan flopped down on Phil plank-like, burying his face into the hot skin on Phil’s chest.

“I c-fff nnmm orr hhfttt-eea.”

“Come again?”

Dan tilted his head to the side so that he could speak. “I can hear your heartbeat.”

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“Depends.”

“Shh. You’re very warm, but you’re cutting off my blood supply a little.”

Dan didn’t show any sign of moving so Phil heaved him over on to the bed. He began to protest but Phil pressed their lips together, kissing gently, in no hurry, his hands trailing up and down Dan’s arms. He reached for Dan’s waist to pull him closer to him, pressing their torsos together and tangling their legs once more. His fingers were leaving trails of flame across Dan’s already burning skin, and Dan shuddered. The sun was almost uncomfortably hot now as it beat down on his shoulders and he stretched his hands up above his head to find the cool patches of duvet.

Phil’s hands were roaming while Dan’s returned to the hottest spot at the back of Phil’s neck. They clutched tightly at one another, breathing together, their eyes screwed shut. Hot skin against hot skin. Damp and sticky, sweat running down between the crevices of skin and bone and gathering in the dips under the knees and at the base of their necks. Dan shivered as Phil’s fingers brushed down his sides to the indent just above his hips, sending goosebumps streaming across his skin. Every point of contact was like a live wire of crackling electricity and it was almost as if they’d never touched before. Their hearts were thudding audibly in their chests and their muscles were clenching, toes curled and lips heavy. Phil caressed the softness of Dan’s belly and drew swirling spirals and figure-of-eights, trailing slowly downwards to the line of Dan’s boxers. His fingers were as light as a feather, tantalizingly soft and hovering ever so slightly above the skin.

Dan jolted away as Phil’s finger slipped under the elastic waistband. He landed in the pile of pillows, his legs curled defensively, his eyes wide. His heart was hammering in his chest and he flushed immediately, stammering an apology and pressing himself back into Phil’s side. He hadn’t been expecting that at all. Dan cursed himself silently. What had he been expecting? Phil was sixteen. He’d probably done this a thousand times before.

But Phil was pushing Dan away, his face creased with worry.

“I – sorry. I just thought, never mind, I’m sorry. We don’t have to. Of course we don’t. Don’t apologise, silly. I should have asked.”

Dan shook his head earnestly. “No, I don’t – I mean, I’m not, I didn’t-”

“I’m sorry,” Phil said again. “I should have talked it through or something. We don’t have to just yet- I mean, ever, if you don’t want-”

“No, Phil, it’s not that I don’t want to – I  _do_ – with you, definitely. I really want to. I just, wasn’t expecting…”

“Not ready?”

Dan shook his head somewhat woefully, biting his lip.

“That’s fine. There’s no rush, we can wait as long as you need. I’m sorry I was just caught up…” Phil hugged his legs awkwardly to his chest, a noticeable gap between them on the bed.

Dan’s head clouded with worry. He felt stupidly guilty for ruining the moment like this. “We can, I mean I do want to and soon, I think. It’s just, I only just turned fifteen – I hadn’t really got my head around sex with a girl let alone… Well, you know. I’ve never done it before. I need like, a bit of mental preparation. You’re going to have to teach me how. Sorry, again, this would have been so perfect – it’s my fault for being such a wimp. With the skylight and the summer and the holidays…”

Phil shook his head violently. “No, it’s not your fault don’t be silly – it’s my fault for thinking it. There will always be another time, and it will be so much better for waiting. I’m sorry. Just let’s forget about it and enjoy the summer? Come on, it’s really hot anyway we probably would have passed out halfway through – I’ll show you the lake.”

~

The conversation was somewhat subdued as they made their way through the colourful garden, Dan clinging tightly to Phil’s hand. Every time he’d tried to apologise Phil had shut him down, and even though he knew he shouldn’t be feeling guilty he still wanted to do something to make it up to Phil. The sweltering summer heat didn’t make it any easier. His head was swimming a little and the ground in front of them shimmered with heat haze.

Phil was definitely feeling guilty. There was a measured distance between them as they walked, and he was pointing out all the different flowers in a bright, cheerful voice that didn’t sound much like Phil. Dan sighed suddenly, interrupting his train of descriptions.

“You okay?” Phil bit his lip.

“Yes, I’m fine. Look, Phil – I’m really sorry about earlier. I know you wanted to just forget it but it’s weird now I don’t-”

“You’re right. I panicked a bit, I just felt awful and I wanted to make sure you were okay and you knew it was okay and like you felt okay and… yeah. We should talk about it. It’s much better to talk, I just freaked because I felt so terrible all at once.” Phil chewed his lip, the words tumbling over themselves and not really coming out as he had planned them. “So. Talking. Um… you start?”

Dan took a deep breath. “Okay, yeah, good idea. Firstly please don’t feel bad okay it’s fine I’m not angry or scared or anything, I don’t think I could ever be scared with you. I feel safe, when I’m with you. I’m 100% sure I could tell you if things weren’t okay. Um, I definitely do want to do… you know, the thing, but I’m also definitely not ready yet because this is the first relationship I’ve ever been in, you know? Can we take, like, baby steps?”

“Baby steps is good. I’m okay with whatever you’re okay with, honestly I would happily wait forever. How about we make a rule – you’re the only one who’s allowed to progress things any further unless we’ve talked it through before?” Phil’s hair was mussed and stuck up at odd angles. Dan looked up at him with a fond smile.

“Okay. I can do that.”

“And, everything else… you know, like we already have – that’s okay?”

“That’s okay.”

“Okay. Good. I’m glad, you know, you’re okay. Because I was an idiot.”

“You’re making a massive deal out of something ridiculously tiny, Phil.”

“It is a massive deal though. You only get one shot at building the foundations of a relationship and it’s like, trust, I guess. Trust is the most important thing. And communication.”

“I trust you, and I can talk to you, so we’re good. Seriously, Phil. We’re the same as we always were and I love you.”

“Okay. Good. I also love you.”

“Good. I should hope so too.”

“By the way I’m kind of glad we didn’t – it would have been awful. I don’t have a clue what I’m doing either, you know. I got Chris to talk me through it in explicit detail when I went to visit but I’m pretty sure he was making most of it up just to laugh at me, I mean, at least the bit with the cactus – that sounded terrifying.”

“Philip Michael Lester. If you come anywhere near my butt with a cactus I will shove it down your throat.”


	12. The Seeker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan has two main passions in life: flying, and his Hufflepuff boyfriend Phil Lester. Previously the idea of trying out for the Slytherin team would have been incomprehensible to Dan, but with Phil at his side perhaps anything is possible.

“Have you heard?”

“What?”

“Chris has been made captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team.”

“Oh no.”

“He’s going to be  _unbearable_.”

Chris and PJ, recently back from the Bahamas, were spending the last two days of the summer with Dan and Phil at Phil’s house. They were due to arrive at any minute and Dan and Phil were waiting in the garden on a pair of tire swings that hung down from the big tree.

“Do you think he’ll be wearing the badge?” Dan asked.

“Oh, definitely. But he’ll be pretending like he’s not. Like, he’ll have it on his shirt under a jacket as if he didn’t want to show off, you know, only wearing it because he has to. But then he’ll keep oh-so-subtly moving his jacket out of the way to make sure everyone sees.” Phil said with a laugh.

“We should pretend we don’t notice it.” Dan sniggered.

“Oh, no,” a gleeful grin spread across Phil’s face. “That would be awful. Let’s do it. He’d go crazy.”

“Oh my god,” Dan giggled. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to keep it up.”

“If we do it we have to commit. All 48 hours. And then on Monday on the train someone will be like ‘oh Chris what’s with the badge?’ and we can pretend to have only just noticed it.”

“That’s evil.”

“It was your idea.”

“I know. It’s gonna be hilarious. We’ll have to let PJ in though, otherwise he’ll get so sick of Chris that he physically points it out to us.”

Phil nodded. “Good point. Talking of the devils, what’s that?”

He gestured up into the clouds and Dan squinted into the sun. Two black dots were silhouetted against the pastel blue sky.

Dan grinned. “Is it a bird? Is it a plane?!”

“What?” Phil frowned.

“Er, never mind. Muggle thing. I wouldn’t expect you to understand anyway.”

Phil snorted. “What, do muggles all have poor eyesight or something?”

“Not quite. Now shut up, I don’t want to miss Chris’s big entrance.”

“I don’t believe it,” Phil said, his eyes screwed up as he stared.

“What?”

“Chris is wearing red.”

“I think you mean scarlet.”

“Oh god.”

“How will we ever see his shiny new badge if it blends in with his jumper?!” Dan rolled his eyes.

“Wait, PJ’s seen us. He’s waving.”

They waved back, and behind them Phil’s mum shot a burst of red sparks into the air through an open window that made them both jump.

“I think they’ve seen us, mum,” Phil shouted, turning round to crane his neck up at the window and rolling his eyes. “It’s broad daylight. They know where to land.”

“I was just saying hello,” she called back, and Phil sighed dramatically.

Chris and PJ touched down on the grass just in front of the house, looking windswept and gloriously brown, their cheeks flushed pink from the cool winds above the clouds. Immediately, Chris pulled his red jumper off over his head to reveal a shiny scarlet badge nestled modestly on his chest. He stretched, groaning at the stiffness in his legs and, conveniently enough, expanding his chest at the same time.

Dan stifled a laugh and Phil kicked him in the shin, before stepping forwards to pull Chris into a hug while Dan attempted a bro handshake with PJ.

“You’re both horrifically tan.” Phil grumbled.

“And you look like you should be haunting the third floor corridor at old Hoggy,” Chris grinned. “Dan is nice and toasted though. Like well-cooked apple pie.”

“Um, thanks?”

They helped Chris and PJ drag their bags laughing into the welcome shade of the front porch. Phil pushed open the door and paused for a moment.

“Seven.” He said.

“What?” Chris asked.

“Oh, nothing. Just thinking out loud.”

“You’re such a weirdo.” Chris laughed.

But Dan knew it wasn’t nothing. Phil was counting the number of times Chris touched his sparkling new Quidditch Captain badge.

~

For Phil’s birthday, his parents - spurred on by letters home - had bought him a broomstick. It was a Cleansweep, not the fastest but remarkably steady. ‘You couldn’t fall off it if you tried’ they’d told them in the shop, and Phil had certainly tried.

“Phil, what are you doing?!” Chris shouted. “Forwards. Lean forwards to go forwards. No, not like that you- WATCH OUT FOR THAT TREE!”

Dan and PJ lowered themselves down from the hovering brooms to awkwardly dangle and swing as they fought to untangle Phil from the branches. When his face finally popped out from between the leaves, it was sporting not terror but a wide smile of laughter.

“I’m really good at this.”

“Yes. Yes you are.” Dan shook his head as he let Phil lean against his shoulder for balance, manoeuvring slowly out of the mess of foliage.

Chris barrel-rolled lazily, the sun glinting off his Team Captain badge, and Dan and Phil exchanged a smirk.

“Serves you right really. All this time teaching Dan Transfiguration and now he’s teaching you something. You know, you’re worse at this than he was at Transfiguration. And Dan’s actually pretty good at this. If he wasn’t a snake, I’d want him on my team.”

This was the closest he’d gotten to explicitly stating his new position, and Dan fought back a laugh, turning to Chris with a blank face. “I’m honoured. We haven’t even played any Quidditch yet, I might be awful.”

Chris’s face screwed up in frustration, but he didn’t say anything. “Alright. Let’s get on with it. Tax not on Phil’s team.”

“War of the couples.” Phil giggled.

“Ugh,” Dan said, spinning round to bob upside-down in front of Phil’s face. “Really regretting picking you for my boyfriend now. I should have gone out with Chris.”

“Ew. No thanks.” Chris grinned, and ducked as Dan ripped off a twig from a tree and lobbed it at his head.

“This is going to be an interesting game We have one Seeker, one Keeper, one Chaser and one buffoon on a broom.”

“I like that,” Phil giggled. “I want that on a badge. Buffoon on a broom.”

Dan snorted loudly, trying to disguise it as a cough. Chris glanced sourly down at his own badge, straightening it half-heartedly and looking back up incredulously at Phil’s blissfully oblivious smile.

“Right,” he muttered, tossing the muggle tennis ball into the air a few times to test out its weight. “Let’s just bloody get on with it. How about you score a point if you can get the other person on your team to catch the ball you throw? Then the other team’s job is to block the passes and gain possession themselves so they can score a point.”

Dan nodded. “Seems sensible. You’re going to lose, by the way.”

“Yeah right,” Chris scoffed. “There’s no way Phil’s staying on long enough to catch a ball.”

~

Despite Dan’s most valiant efforts, he and Phil lost dismally. They retired sweaty and shattered to the lake to cool off. They’d promised to get Phil riding like a pro before term started, which meant they’d probably be in the air all day tomorrow, but Dan didn’t mind. It was the first time he’d flown with other people since flying lessons years ago. And, albeit grudgingly, Chris did have to admit that Dan was really good.

~

A new year, a new sign above the dormitory, and a new smile on his face when Dan walked into the Slytherin common room with his head held high.

~

As they entered October, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became ice grey and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows, defrosting broomsticks on the quidditch pitch, bundled up in a long moleskin coat.

The quidditch season was about to begin. On Saturday, Chris came down to breakfast in his scarlet Quidditch robes and made a point to rub his badge over Dan and Phil’s faces before sitting down at the table (he still hadn’t forgiven them for that one).

“Tryouts next weekend.” He announced.

“You sound very important.” Dan sniggered.

“I am very important. Besides, I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“What work? They haven’t happened yet.”

“Nope, but I need to train you up in time.”

“What?!” Dan spluttered into his cornflakes.

“You’re trying out for Slytherin.”

“No I am not.”

“Yes you are.”

“There’s no way Flint would pick me. He hates my guts.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I’m muggle born. Trust me, they don’t want me representing Slytherin.”

“You’re going to be so good they don’t have a choice. Remember, plenty of teachers turn up to watch the tryouts. If they pick someone rubbish over you, they’re going to smell a rat.” Chris reassured him.

“Yeah great,” Dan muttered. “The Slytherins will be  _so_  friendly to me after that.”

“So you’ll do it?” Chris said cheerfully.

Dan bit his lip.

“You’ve always wanted to, you’d be really good.” Chris pushed.

“Then surely you don’t want me to?” Dan said wryly. “I’d be playing for the enemy.”

“Daniel,” Chris said, leaning backwards. “There are not a lot of things in this world that are more important than Quidditch. But my friends are. It pains me, I’ll admit, but I care about you more than I care about the Quidditch cup. Did I just say that? I haven’t even been drinking.”

Dan poked Chris gently in the arm, touched. “Are you sure you’re not going to get me to try to sabotage them?”

“It had crossed my mind, yes,” Chris grinned. “But your loyalty should always lie with your house, even if they’re mostly slimeballs. I’m banking on the fact that the rest of the team will be rubbish, so all we’ll have to do is keep you away from the snitch. Besides, I know your flying style. I’ll have an advantage planning tactics against you.”

Dan smiled. “Alright. All your soppy talk has mollified me. Maybe I’ll try out. Do you actually want to train me?”

“Oh yes. If I teach you, then I can beat you.”

“Thanks.”

~

Dan’s throat was dry as he fought to swallow a lump of toast.

“I can’t do it.”

“Yes you can, I’ve seen you fly. You’re amazing.”

“I can’t do it, Phil. I’ll fall off. I’ll make a fool of myself. He won’t pick me, so why bother?” Dan chewed on his nails, while the other hand ran anxiously through his hair.

Phil sighed. They’d had this conversation several times already. “Okay. You’re better than anyone else trying out. If they pick you, you get to play Quidditch. If they don’t, it’s probably bias but I agree with you it would be better not to appeal to a teacher or anything as there’s no point in being in a team with people that think you only got in because of a teacher. It wouldn’t be fun.”

“It’s not going to be fun anyway. At least half the team are the very worst type of Slytherin. And I’m tiny compared to them.”

“You’re taller than most of them.”

“Yeah but, sideways.”

“Hmm, sideways needs work, I’ll admit. Really though, it’s much better to be on their team than on one of the opposing teams. Because if one of those brutes barrels into you you’d probably just brake, no offence. They’re like, gorillas.”

“That’s probably offensive to gorillas.” Dan attempted a weak smile, and Phil pulled him into a hug.

“I mean it, you’re on their team. It’s the safest place to be, trust me. It’s a chance to get, I dunno, noticed a bit more, too. Because you’re pretty cool.” Phil winked.

“I don’t want to be noticed. I’m very fond of my quiet little corner, thanks. Being left alone is great.”

“Rude.”

“You know what I mean. It’s safer, not standing out. I don’t wanna get beaten up.”

Phil’s lips puckered into a pout. “Well, I guess, but don’t you want recognition for like, the things you’re good at?”

Dan shrugged. “Okay, I guess yeah. But this is just going to stress me out so much. I’ll be terrified before every practice and probably piss myself when we have to play a match. So much anxiety. Ha.”

Phil laughed. “That’s life. You kinda have to get used to it.”

Dan frowned. “You mean, you get that too?”

“Everyone does, to an extent. But every practice will be slightly less scary than the last. And then when you have to go to a business meeting or something, you won’t be as scared as if you’d never done anything like it before, you know? It helps build your confidence. If you never do anything, then everything will be scary. You know when you see really confident people doing all these crazy things that would scare you shitless? Well, that’s probably how they got confident. Doing scary things.”

“You sound like my mum. ‘You need to push yourself more, Dan. You need to talk more. You can’t make friends if you never talk! Stop being so quiet.’ Like, it’s that easy. I physically can’t do it.” Dan stirred his porridge ruefully.

“I get it, really I do. Like when you’re in a big group of people and you can’t get any words out unless they’re, like, your closest friends. But you’re listening. And smiling and laughing and stuff. But the thing is, the longer you’re there, with those people, the more comfortable you get. And you can slip in the odd word every now and then. It’s like that with this. By the end, you’ll have a group of friends and adoring fans and all these things you’ve secretly dreamed of, and you’ll be glad you did it. I mean, look at it this way. If you try out, let’s estimate low and say you’ve got a 50% chance of playing Quidditch and a 50% chance of not playing Quidditch. If you don’t try out, you’ve got a 100% chance of not playing Quidditch.”

Dan bit his lip, unsure. Phil piled sausages onto his plate by way of reassurance and patted him a little awkwardly on the back.

“So, you gonna do it?”

“Do you think I should?”

“I do. You’re really good. You’ll make the team, I promise. And you’ll get to beat Chris. Oh, please do. I would cry with happiness.”

Dan grinned, glancing over at where Chris was sat with PJ at the Ravenclaw table.

“He’s said I can go watch their tryouts this morning, because Flint’s booked the afternoon. So I’ll know what to expect. I think that’s going to be the decider, you know, if it freaks me out too much I won’t be able to go through with it.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Phil frowned. “Just sitting there worrying for like three hours is only going to get you more worked up.”

“You can come with me so I’m not on my own and distract me with Transfiguration facts.”

“Oh, joy. Three hours of watching people throw a ball at some hoops. I can’t think of anything I’d rather be doing. Oh, wait, yes I can.” Phil rolled his eyes, buttering a slice of toast, and Dan sniggered.

“You’ll do it for me though, right? I mean, you’d be there in the afternoon to cheer me on of course.”

Phil sighed emphatically. “Alright, just because it’s you. Can we take a chess set with us or something?”

~

“Knight to F3.”

“Knight to C6.”

“Pawn to E4.”

“Bishop to C4 -  _Dan_.”

“What?”

“I saw that.”

“You saw nothing.”

Hopeful Gryffindors circled the stands, warming up while Chris marched around looking important on the pitch.

“He doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing, does he.” Dan giggled.

Phil shook his head with a laugh. “He was planning it all yesterday evening. You made a wise decision going to bed early. He kept trying to run through it with me no matter how many times I told him I was about as useful as a limp cabbage when it came to Quidditch.”

Two overenthusiastic third years collided head on by the goalposts and a group of bystanders cheered. Chris seemed to have finally called his brain to order and located a Quaffle, and was now shouting orders and gesticulating energetically. A row of students lined up on the pitch, but at least three more were 60 feet up in the air, oblivious to his attempts to catch their attention. Exasperated, he dropped the ball on the grass and took off into the air to round them up. He hadn’t been gone more than thirty seconds before two of the Gryffindors on the ground got bored of waiting and kicked off to play an enthusiastic game of piggy-in-the-middle with the abandoned Quaffle. Ten minutes and lots of shouting later, Chris, red in the face and panting slightly, had finally called the rowdy Gryffindors to order. First to try out would be the Keepers, as their task was arguably the simplest.

The first three flew well, but were not extraordinary. A tall boy with a shock of violent red hair was next to take to the goal posts, and the difference was dramatic. He saved every shot with a flourish and even Chris’s signature spin shot wasn’t enough to faze him. As a small Chaser with dark hair lined up to take her shot, she stopped suddenly before dropping the Quaffle in surprise.

Dan leaned over the railings, squinting to get a closer look at what was happening. The boy with red hair had red hair no longer, for it had turned a slightly putrid shade of green. From this distance, Dan couldn’t make out much of the boy’s facial features, but he could have sworn his nose had been smaller before too, and less pointy. Both Chris and the Chaser were laughing now, and beside him Phil let out a low whistle.

“He’s a metamorphmagus,” he said.

“Um, bless you?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot. Muggleborn.”

Dan punched Phil’s arm. “It sounds like a disease.”

“It means he can change his appearance at will,” Phil explained. “Like, without spells or anything. They just concentrate and it happens.”

“That’s so cool,” Dan said. “Is it genetic then?”

“What’s a genetic?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot. Pureblood.”

“You disgust me.”

“It’s science Phil, I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“Oh yeah? Try me.”

“Alright then, genetics lecture coming up. Fasten your metaphorical seatbelt because it’s going to be a bumpy ride.”

~

“I still don’t get why there are different types of RNA.”

“Well, they do different things,” Dan said helplessly. “I only told you about tRNA and mRNA. It’s not  _that_  difficult to understand.”

“It sounds absolutely ridiculous. You’re telling me muggles can accept all that rubbish no problem, but refuse to believe in magic?”

Dan shrugged. They were making their way down onto the pitch to meet Chris, who was looking a little dishevelled but otherwise cheerful. He was deep in conversation with the new metamorphmagus keeper and turned around to introduce them.

“Dan, Phil, this is Ben. He can make his nose look like a beak. And he currently has three ears, so be careful trying to talk about him behind his back.”

They shook hands, Dan staring keenly at Ben’s features, which had just moments before resembled those of a particularly disgruntled donkey.

“So you’re trying out for slytherin seeker, huh?” Ben asked.

“Yeah,” Dan smiled hesitantly. “Congrats on getting keeper. You’re really good. I’m glad I don’t have to try to get past you.”

“Thanks,” Ben grinned. “What time do you start?”

“Half an hour.”

“Good luck. Chris tells me you’re pretty good, too.”

Dan blushed. “I’ve never really played before though, and I don’t think I’ll get picked.”

Ben shrugged. “You’d be surprised. Flint’s not completely stupid, they’ve been doing really well while he’s been captain. Seeker’s probably the most competition though, especially with Slytherin. Teamwork isn’t their strongest quality and Seeker’s solitary, I reckon it appeals to them more than most. You don’t look like a Slytherin. No offense.”

Dan coloured. “Well, you know, we’re not all Death Eaters. There are plenty of nice Slytherins. We’re just more introverted than you guys. We like spending time alone and we’re just a bit quieter and less obnoxious.”

Chris sniggered. “You tell him, Dan. Put him in his place. I don’t want a Keeper who’s full of himself.”

Dan stared at the ground, embarrassed. “I didn’t mean it like that I-”

“No, no he’s right,” Ben laughed. “I was being judgemental. You’re a Slytherin, and you seem pretty decent too. We Gryffindors just have a lot of pent up pride and prejudice that escapes sometimes. Sorry, I was talking about them – about you – like they, I mean you- ah crap. You know what I mean. I’m gonna watch your try-out though, if that’s alright? Chris is watching and I need to suck up to my new captain.”

Dan nodded with a relieved smile. “Yeah, of course, that’s fine. I’ll try not to fall off my broom.”

Phil, who had been investigating a patch of small, colourful daisies at the side of the pitch, chose this moment to trip over a broomstick and fall face first in the mud at Dan’s feet.

Ben stuck out a hand. “Hey, I’m Ben, and I really hope you’re on the Hufflepuff team this year.”

~

“I can’t do it!” Dan wailed.

“Listen to me,” Phil grabbed Dan by the shoulders and spun him round till they were nose to nose. “You’re going to get your butt on that broomstick and knock their socks off.”

“I bet you want my butt on your broomstick.” Dan said weakly.

Phil ignored him. “You’ll regret it if you don’t, you’re going to be amazing, okay? You have better eyesight than I could ever dream of. You’re fast, you’re agile, you’re brilliant, you’re hot, you’re amazing, you’re better than anyone else out there. Trust me. I know you can do this.”

Dan took another glance out onto the pitch where Slytherins were assembling and subtly sizing each other up. He blanched, turning back to Phil, his face white.

“I’m serious Phil,” he said urgently. “I’m too scared. I’ll panic. I’ll fall off. I’m going to make an absolute tit of myself, I can tell.”

“No one cares, Dan. If you do, they’ll all have forgotten about it by the end of the trials. You’re one of many. You saw the Gryffindor try-outs, at least a quarter of them did something stupid or flew into someone else or whatever. And anyway, you’re not nearly as clumsy as you make out you are.”

“I really am.”

“You’re really not. Do it. If you fall, I’ll strip off and streak round the pitch as a distraction.”

“Oh my god. It’s worth falling off just for that.”

“I’ll do it. I’m not kidding. So you better not fall off, because I’ll make sure everyone knows I’m your boyfriend as well.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

“I’m not sure I really want to anymore…”

“Great, now off you go. The ever graceful Marcus Flint is trying to organize your people.”

Flint was stomping around like a rhino, and as he yelled at a gaggle of giggling first years Dan felt his stomach drop.

“He’s very big.”

Phil pulled him into a hug and kissed the top of his head.

“You can do it. You’re better than any of that rabble.”

Dan squeezed back and turned to face the pitch. He gulped audibly, and shouldered his broomstick.

“I’m bloody shaking.” He murmured.

“Fly high then so no one can see.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Shut up.”

“Go be amazing.”

“Go watch me be amazing and feel inadequate.”

“I will.”

“Oh god.”

“Love you Dan.”

“Love you Phil. If I fall, can you conjure up like a big pillow or something?”

“’Course. Now get on with it.”

“Bye,”

“Good luck. I’ll beat him up if he doesn’t pick you.”

“I’ll watch from very far away.”

“ _Go._ ”

~

With his feet on the ground Dan had been a trembling wreck, but as soon as he pushed off into the air a wave of calm had seemingly washed over him with the wind. His ears were ice and his nose a bright pink within minutes, but he ignored the cold and focused on flying as high and fast as he could. It was as if he was leaving all the worry behind him, and it took a great deal of effort to stop himself and spin back round the face the pitch. He was, perhaps, a little too high, but he knew he could drop back down quickly enough. With the polished wood smooth against his skin, his hands had stopped shaking. The crisp air stung his eyes until they watered and he blinked rapidly to clear his vision. There were eight other Slytherins in the air, dotted around the pitch and eyeing each other up warily. To avoid a scrum and serious injuries, Marcus was going to take to the air as he drilled the potential Seekers. There was no one Dan was particularly friendly with, and, had they been on the ground, Dan probably would have been intimidated by the group; but up here he felt a lot calmer. He was in control, and he was powerful. He was at ease on a broom, confident, in fact. He only wished he could feel this way on his two feet.

A tiny glint of gold as Flint spun in the air. Dan wasn’t closest, but he’d seen it almost immediately and he dived. It had begun.

~

“Three cheers for Dan!”

“Hip hip,”

“Hooray!”

“Hip hip,”

“Hooray!”

“Hip hip,”

“Hooray!”

On the last ‘hooray’, Chris and PJ hoisted Dan up onto their shoulders and paraded him down the corridor. Ben wasn’t finished though and had produced his wand from under his robes. Dan shrunk back automatically. He had known the Gryffindor just a few hours, but already he was starting to get a good idea of Ben’s character and was somewhat wary of what would come out the end of such an innocent looking wooden stick.

“And one for luck,” Ben continued. “Hip hip-”

“Hooray!”

A fountain of green sparks erupted from the end of Ben’s wand with a bang that resembled a firework. Dan let out the breath he’d been holding and relaxed. No screaming butterflies this time.

“Where are the celebrations taking place?” Ben asked, stowing his wand away again (much to Dan’s relief).

“Not sure,” Chris said. “We can’t go to the common room because of all the people that didn’t get in, I mean that’s just plain rude.”

“Agreed,” Ben nodded. “There aren’t a lot of us. I’ll gather up a few of my friends, if that’s okay, and you’ll want your crowd? We’ll need to send a team down to the kitchens for refreshments too. How about the caved in secret passage on the fourth floor? Behind the mirror with the weird cherub things?”

“Sounds perfect,” PJ agreed. “Now we just need to find some losers who care enough about Quidditch to join us.”

~

The passageway behind the dusty wall mounted mirror in the fourth floor corridor was just large enough to hold a comfortable group of twenty. Lit by illuminated wand tips, the dark space had a somewhat eerie atmosphere, their hushed voices echoing off the tall stone walls. Dust made it hard to breath and the pile of rubble blocking the other end of the space did nothing to help put the party at ease.

“Right,” Chris said suddenly. “I don’t care if we get rumbled. We need some light, and we need some music. This is just weird.”

“I don’t know,” PJ chuckled. “I think it’s quite atmospheric.”

Chris ignored him, his face scrunched in concentration as he conjured up a small magical fire that burned bright purple. PJ watched him for a moment before flicking his wand lazily and sending a large red fire crackling into the centre of the room. Chris tsked.

“Show off.” He muttered.

PJ grinned. He wasn’t finished yet. Without saying a single word or incantation, he used his wand to catch the flames like strands of thread and twist and spiral them upwards into flickering shapes. Chris kept up a constant stream of insults under his breath as everyone gathered round to Ooh and Ah. Tiny little fire dragons snapped at each other and sparks turned into fairies with wings of smoke and dresses of amber. A tongue of yellow flame licked up out of the burning embers into a goalpost, and two more joined side by side. Little sparkling figures on broomsticks darted in and out of the flames.

PJ turned to grin at the flickering flames reflected in the eyes of his disgruntled boyfriend.

“Are you going to get some music going then?” He teased.

Chris muttered something inaudible that made PJ snort.

“I don’t think so,” he grinned. “We could always have a sing along beside the campfire if you’d prefer?”

Chris made a rude hand gesture before heaving himself to his feet and cracking his knuckles. He surveyed PJ through narrowed eyes. PJ leaned back on his elbows, amused.

Over the many years the hollow space had been used for night-time gatherings and not-so-secret hideouts, students had tacked posters and decorations to the walls. A few makeshift torches were held up by Ardwick’s Extra Strength Adhesive and poorly executed Permanent Sticking charms, while the remains of some birthday streamers and a cluster of long since deflated balloons hung limply to one wall. Chris had his attention to the posters. A number of famous witches and wizards watched him with vague interest while a group of large puppies ambled through a field. A photo of the school choir from three years back had been graffitied with moustaches and party hats, but they stared back at Chris with determination in their miniature faces.

With a flourish, he brandished his wand like a conductor’s baton and surveyed the rows of 2D pink faces. Chris began to whisper under his breath as he moved his wand in smooth, circular motions. One of the tiny figures jogged over to the choral piano and struck up an opening chord. The choir took a deep breath as Chris beat out a bar and then brought them in with a tuneful chorus of high pitched squeaks. The students in the passageway cheered appreciatively and Chris beamed, triumphant. PJ just lay back a little further, the glow of the firelight illuminating his face and dancing off green eyes that were fixed steadily on Chris with a fondness that could light a thousand bonfires.

~

It was as much Dan’s party as it was the rest of the new Gryffindor team, but he sat in a darkened corner a little away from the limelight, his head resting on Phil’s shoulder.

“I know I’ve said this already,” Phil murmured. “But I really am really super proud of you. I don’t know much about Quidditch, but I do know how much courage it took to walk out on to that pitch. How much you wanted to run in the opposite direction and not stop. But you didn’t. You did it. And you’re amazing and you’re braver than I’ll ever be. You deserve this a million times over.”

Dan smiled, watching the fire spit sparks up towards the ceiling.

“I very nearly didn’t. If you hadn’t been there to give me that last push, I would have run. And I would have regretted it all year. I’m going to play Quidditch, Phil. I’m a Seeker. I’m  _the_  Seeker. It still hasn’t quite sunk in yet. The Slytherin Seeker. It even alliterates.”

“Better still if your name was Steve. Or Simon.”

“Yes, thanks Phil. Maybe I should change it.”

“If you’re really good then maybe you’ll even get a nickname. Or if you’re really bad, but let’s not think about that.”

“I don’t want to stand out too much, though.”

“Very wise,” Phil nodded. “Do you know when you start training?”

“Next week,” Dan pretended to shudder. “That’s when the real hell begins.”

“Hey,” Phil said gently. “If you got through the try-outs, you can get through training. You’re going to lead Slytherin to victory and trample all over Chris’s smug grin.”

“And then there’s the actual matches, and after that I’ll have to survive the infamous Slytherin after parties…”

Phil shushed Dan with a kiss. “You can do it. You’ll come out of it a stronger person, and I’ll be there all the way to help you.”

Dan tilted his head to smile up at Phil, their faces very close together. “Thank you. I’m glad I did it. It’s going to be scary, but I think it’ll help make me more confident. If I didn’t have you I don’t think I’d do it. Not by myself. Chris and PJ too, and everyone else. I’m a changed man, Philip. Thank you, seriously.”

Phil kissed him again, brushing aside a lock of brown hair with his index finger. “Sorry for all the cheesiness. I’ll stop after this I swear. One last thing: I’m always going to be there for you. Even if you know, we don’t work out or whatever. I’ll still be by your side. As your best friend.”

“Well that turned morbid very quickly,” Dan said, snuggling into Phil’s side. “Let’s not think about breaking up. Not going to happen, obviously. We’re meant to be. To with a ‘two’ though, obviously. This isn’t just puppy love. We’re all in this together.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Never mind. Just do that thing again. You know, with your lips and my lips. I like that.”

Phil rolled his eyes as he tilted Dan’s head up to kiss him once more.

~

“Shit the bed,” Chris said poking his head round the door. “It’s the police - run, run for your lives!”

He’d staggered out for a toilet break and spotted an army of teachers making their way down the fourth floor corridor with steely expressions, led by a triumphant Filch.

A loud buzz went up from the assembled students as they frantically gathered up their scattered belongings. Dan and Phil were in the far corner and consequently brought up the rear of the fleeing herd. The first out the gap in the wall sprinted away with seconds to spare, but the teachers moved quickly and cornered the bulk of the cheery Gryffindor’s (and token Slytherin). Filch shook a gleeful fist and Professor Umbridge, clad in a bright pink dressing down, conjured up a parchment and began to take a list of names.

“I can’t wait to get to know you all in detention,” she said sweetly, wand flicking.

The cheerful atmosphere had been extinguished almost as quickly as the magical fires as the students stared sheepishly at their toes. Under the glares of 7 angry adults and with the prospect of some serious punishments, it didn’t seem quite so funny.

“Oh, and since you’re up already I’ll let you in on a little treat I have for you all. I have a new job, you see. As appointed personally by Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic. Hogwarts High Inquisitor. I will have the power to review practices and teaching here at Hogwarts, to ensure that standards meet Ministry expectations.”

Even the teachers seemed a little sombre as they listened to her speech. Incredulous glances were exchanged amongst the students, and a Dan could hear Ben muttering darkly to his friend. What was she talking about? Dan had a nasty feeling that he didn’t want to find out. Professor Umbridge continued, unaware of or at least immune to the filthy glares she was receiving from students and staff alike.

“You should know that things around here are going to change. I’m here to help. Hogwarts has become very lax these past few years, and there are some things that I simply won’t stand for.”

Maybe it was Dan’s imagination, but he could have sworn he caught the short lady’s cold eyes flicking to space between he and Phil where their hands clasped tightly together.


	13. A Truly Scary Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The students get an unwelcome Halloween surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was actually uploaded to my tumblr a couple of days before halloween, i just forgot to update it here oops

October 31st dawned cold and grey. Frost was on the ground and for one day only the fires burned black and purple in the hearths.

Trick or Treating had been banned in Hogwarts centuries back, but students still found ways to celebrate.  The pumpkin carving was particularly elaborate. While the largest were saved for the Great Hall decorations, any extra that Hagrid had grown were given to the students to do with as they pleased. For the third year running a particularly leering pumpkin had been bewitched on to the thoroughly angry head of Mrs Norris, and Filch was to been seen chasing her around the grounds in the early hours of the morning trying to lever it off with a broom handle.

“It’s animal abuse,” Carrie muttered. “I don’t like it.”

“She’s more evil than animal, I promise.” Chris grinned, but got only a scowl in return.

Fake spiders dangled from every archway and had a habit of jumping out at unsuspecting first years, their overlarge fangs dripping with blood. Skeletons rattled in the broom cupboards and the Hogwarts ghosts were partying hard throughout the corridors of the castle. There was even rumoured to be a vampire somewhere in the dungeons, brought in from Scandinavia especially.

Dan, Phil, PJ and Chris were seated around one large pumpkin, working on it together. Carrie had carved an elaborate floral pattern around the rim before heading back to her dormitory to change for the evening.

“Have you met the ghoul in the charms corridor yet?” PJ asked. “He has a top hat and I’m very jealous.”

“You have two top hats.” Chris complained.

“This one’s purple and sparkly.”

Chris tsked, turning back to his quarter of the pumpkin. It was a gaudy collection of cartoon penises disguised as faces, Chris’s master plan being that the candle would illuminate the obscenity when lit. In PJ’s section intricate characters rode surfboards through the galaxy, and Dan had created a screaming face that almost seemed to protrude out of the vegetable. It wasn’t until the pumpkin was lit till Phil’s image was visible: a gradient sunset in hues of orange and yellow. It was an eclectic mix of personalities.

“Are we just going to leave it floating there?”

“Yeah, why not. I think it brightens up the room beautifully.”

The festivities continued well into the afternoon, but it was as the sun sank behind the clouds that the real excitement started.

Screams were the soundtrack of the evening, and students with arachnophobia were warned to stay clear of the fourth floor corridor. The teachers too were getting into the Halloween spirit. Professor Flitwick had bewitched a cheery crowd of decapitated heads to float up by the ceiling, occasionally muttering to themselves or emitting blood curdling screams. Professor Vector had conjured up a mysterious green fog that smelled oddly of cabbage, and even McGonagall was to be seen sporting a huge, elaborate velvet witch’s hat covered in cobwebs.

Despite the scares, the atmosphere was a happy one as the students made their way down to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast.

“Did you hear?” Chris said excitedly as they clattered down the stairs. “Umbridge found four toads in her underwear drawer this morning. Four!”

“What I want to know is how the hell they managed to get into Umbridge’s underwear drawer.” Phil laughed.

“Why? Fancy taking a peek? Wow Phil, I didn’t know you were into that sort of thing.” Chris sniggered, and Phil hit him over the head with a rubber snake.

“Well, I heard the seventh years have been working on something top secret for after the feast. There’s a rumour going round that they’ve got zombies.” Dan said excitedly.

“What like, actual corpses?” Phil frowned.

“Obviously not you spoon,” Dan laughed. “I don’t know what they are. Maybe just like, scarecrows. Made of straw or something. But they’re going to come at us with rusty pitchforks screaming for brains.”

“I really, really hope that’s true.” Chris said wistfully.

Just then, Carrie joined them, pulling cobwebs from her hair.

“I was running so late I had to cut through the fourth floor,” she sighed, shaking her mane of blonde curls. “It wasn’t really that bad. They don’t touch you or anything. But it’s really eerie. And they’re  _really_ big.”

“That’s what she said.”

“Shut up, Chris. There was a purple fluffy one, too.”

“That’s what she said.”

“Maybe see a doctor, Chris.”

They had joined the crowd of students moving slowly into the Great Hall and were greeted with a cloud of warmth and the rich aroma of-

“Pumpkin spice latte.”

“What?”

“Never mind,” Dan grinned.

~

A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and the ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins flicker. Chains rattled around the walls and the pipes groaned in the stonework. They took their seats and set to work straight away on the pumpkin juice. Above their heads, the sky stormed and raged, bolts of lightning flying from one side of the ceiling to the other. It was a strange atmosphere. The warmth and the comfort of the feast, and the cheerful orange light from all the candles, juxtaposed against the spooky, electrified feel to the evening. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates and the buzz of chatter swelled and died as the students tucked in.

“Pass the eyeballs.”

“Do you think these are  _real_ fingernails?”

“I don’t care, they taste amazing.”

A shock of red hair could be seen bobbing towards them, and Ben sat down beside them with a heavy thump. “Hello, boys. You look terrible.”

The Quidditch season started in just a few days, and both Chris and Dan were exhausted. They had been training solidly throughout the holidays, and the Halloween celebrations were a welcome respite. Ben too had been training, but seemed to harbour an endless reserve of energy and was currently mouthing off loudly about Umbridge.

“Have you seen her latest? No facial piercings. One small stud in the ear only. Apparently she tried to take it all the way to girls exclusively, but Dumbledore wasn’t having it. I swear this is just to spite me because I’ve been mucking about a bit in her lessons, you know, with the whole metamorphmagus thing. It’s bloody hilarious, actually.” Ben pulled absentmindedly at the small hole where his lip piercing used to be. He looked strange without it, almost naked.

“Oh god, it’s the best. ‘Benjamin!’,” Chris adopted a high pitched whine. “’No enchantments in my class!’ Then he does all his innocent puppy-dog-eyes act and she waggles her wand trying to lift his charms, but nothing happens. Ben tears up good and proper ‘is this about my nose? I can’t help it! Everyone always makes fun of me.’ And suddenly old Delores is all sweet and sugar and apologetic, but five minutes later and he’s got for inches of purple hair sprouting out his left nostril, and she’s starting to smell a rat.”

Ben chuckled. “I pushed it a bit far though, ended up with two weeks of detention. Bundle of laughs that one.” He pulled up his sleeve to show the table the line of thin pink lines on his arm, and everyone groaned sympathetically.

Carrie looked up from her book. “I really wouldn’t antagonize her, she’s more dangerous than you think. She has the full force of the Ministry backing her up. It won’t be long before those who don’t fit her pretty little picture of ‘the well rounded witch or wizard’ are packing their bags.”

“We can’t just bow down and let her walk all over us like this, it’s not right.” Ben said emphatically.

“We’re not starting a rebellion because she toughened up the uniform code,” Carrie rolled her eyes. “I’m surprised you got away with it so long, actually. If you read the rule books then we’re not technically allowed tattoos or piercings outside of our ears. No unnatural hair colours either, it’s ‘unprofessional’, apparently. And that’s been a rule since the very beginning.”

“Seriously?!” Ben asked in disbelief, and Carrie nodded.

Their conversation was interrupted by a commotion to their left, Chris having finally succeeded in his quest to catch one of the low flying bats. The kafuffle that followed resulted in several overturned flagons, multiple injuries, yells, sparks, an extremely large enchanted pumpkin soaring majestically across the Great Hall and a week’s worth of detention for the entire end of the Gryffindor table.

~

Warm and sleepy with the not entirely unpleasant ache of an overstuffed stomach, the students were filtering slowly out of the Great Hall and towards the marble staircase. Something was holding up the throng of students and as they passed through the heavy oak doors they could see a crowd gathered around the notice board in the Entrance Hall.

“What is it now?!” Carrie asked, craning her neck to see.”

“Educational decree number 31,” Dan chuckled, making the most of his extra height. “’Boys and girls are not permitted to be within eight inches of each other.’ Oh bugger, well that’s got us stumped, eh, Phil?”

Chris let out a snort, but PJ looked worried.

“This didn’t just come out of nowhere,” he said, squinting. “What’s in the small print?”

They worked their way to the front, Phil in the lead, and it was when Phil grabbed Dan’s hand suddenly and squeezed it tight that Dan knew it was bad.

_ _

_‘Severity of the punishment will reflect the severity of the offense. Those attempting to engage in same sex relations will be expelled immediately.’_

There was a moment of silence as the two couples stood side by side.

“Why’s it so small? No one will even notice that.” Dan whispered.

“Because she wants get rid of us. She wants us to get caught.” Phil said dully.

“Fuck that!” Carrie exclaimed loudly.

Dan blinked. Carrie very rarely swore in public, but now she was pulling her wand from her robes with murder in her glare.

“Be careful,” Ben warned anxiously. “That’s probably ministry property, don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

She ignored him, instead conjuring up a cluster of luminous yellow sparkles which she guided over to highlight the miniature text. The watching crowd squinted to read where she was directing them, and the buzz of concerned chatter swelled angrily to a hum of rage.

“I take back everything I said,” Carrie said, angry tears stinging at the edges of her eyes. “This is  _war_.”

~

There were many differing opinions as to the best way to deal with Umbridge’s threat. A large portion of the Gryffindors backed outright murder, discussing poisons with the Slytherins. Even the kind-hearted Hufflepuffs were in favour of grievous bodily harm.

Thanks to educational decree number twenty-nine, the turnout to this little meeting had been all too small. Students were afraid. If they were caught meeting up, the punishment would be severe. No one wanted to think about what would happen if she discovered the cause for their gathering.

“Okay, seriously now,” A tall Ravenclaw named Sophie said, taking centre stage. “We can’t actually kill her. No maiming, either. One vile woman with questionable fashion sense isn’t worth going to Azkaban over. There are so many more of us than her, we should be able to defeat her.” She stood up thoughtfully, making her way over to the blackboard and lifting up a piece of chalk. “Our immediate goal will be to work together to ensure that she doesn’t catch anyone. Not a single person. You have to protect your fellow students – even if you despise them. It doesn’t matter. You’re fighting persecution, it’s nothing to do with the individual. Maybe she’ll give up if it doesn’t work, but at the very least it will be frustrating.”

She’d been deep in discussion with her friends and it was clear that this was a fully formed plan of action.

“We can do this by covering for each other. One nasty little brat spotted a couple kissing in the forest? Too bad, three hundred students can vouch absolutely that they were in the Great Hall at the time. Give hell to anyone who snitches. Make safe spaces. And Umbridge gets her own entourage. You spot her heading down the corridor? Run ahead, make sure everyone knows. Same goes for anyone on her side. I have faith in our teaching body, I think only Filch will be able to agree with her on this one.

“Stage two is fighting back against this decree. Write to your parents. Anyone at the ministry who might be sympathetic. Kick up a fuss, don’t let this go unnoticed. Small print won’t get the better of us that easily. It’s funny, people have been screaming from the rooftops about the ministry’s involvement in Hogwarts, but this all happened very quietly. There was that piece in the Daily Doxy, remember? About her persecution against half breeds and magical creatures? So why isn’t anyone talking about this? Talk, and talk loud.

“And finally, our end goal. We just have to drive her out. Make her life a living hell. Disrupt every waking minute of her life.”

A pair of redhead twins at the back of the room led the applause.

“Stage three’s my favourite,” one of them spoke up. “We got that base covered.”

Sophie nodded. “So now what remains is for us to spread the word. Let people know that they’re safe, that we’re looking out for them and we don’t support the discrimination. And tell everyone too scared to come here how they can help. Remember, this isn’t the only bad thing she’s done and it probably won’t be the last. Resist everything. Anything you can do to oppose her is a good thing, but don’t risk your own life. I don’t mean literally. If you get expelled they’ll snap your wand and that’s as good as the end, especially if you’re muggleborn like me. Without my wand, this world doesn’t exist for me. Let’s make sure it doesn’t ever get that far.”

She took a deep breath, stepping down from the stool she’d propped herself on for projection. “The staff will help as much as they can without risking their jobs. We already know that, this is the first time in god knows how many years that McGonagall’s ‘forgotten’ to lock the classroom door at night. And she made quite a show about it. We can do this, if we all stand together. We can and will fight.”

Amidst the cheers and applause, Dan heard a low voice from a muggleborn Hufflepuff on his left. “Red, the blood of angry men.”

A grin spread across Sophie’s face. “Black, the dark of ages past.” She replied with a wink.

Dan laughed, and Phil raised an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, it’s a muggleborn thing,” Dan chuckled. “You wouldn’t get it.”

~

With all the drama and excitement of that midnight meeting, the first week of Decree No. 31 was very quiet. No one, of any sexuality, was reprimanded, but there was a certain air of hush around the castle. Students walked a little faster across the flagstones and cast furtive glances round corners. Dan and Phil had made no effort to hide their relationship in the past, and there was a noticeable difference in the way people spoke to them.

“It’s like we died or something,” Dan complained, cross legged at the end of Phil’s bed. “Or we’re on death row. They speak in hushed voices. It’s the pity, it’s as if we’re already doomed. I half expect them to go ‘I’m so sorry for your loss’ and pat me on the shoulder.”

“What’s death row?” Phil asked.

“Oh, if someone does something really bad they get executed sometimes. Not here though. No death penalty in England, I’m talking about America.”

“You  _execute_  people?!” Phil said, horrified.

“Don’t sound so appalled, you literally suck out their souls. That’s a whole lot more macabre.”

“Well, okay, maybe a little,” Phil admitted. “I know what you mean, though. Even Carrie does it. She looks like she’s going to cry whenever she makes eye contact with me.”

“It’s like everyone knows it’s just a matter of time,” Dan said gloomily. “Umbridge has been here long enough, she knows who’s out as anything other than straight. We’re dead men walking.”

Phil leaned forwards on his knees and wrapped his arms around Dan’s neck.

“We just have to be more careful, is all. No kissing in public. That’s not all that hard, really.”

“We shouldn’t have to be careful.”

“No.”

On the rug, Luna watched them through large, yellow eyes, her tail twitching.

~

The first blow fell in the second week, when Umbridge announced gleefully that she was launching a full scale investigation into two Gryffindor boys. She was calling for anyone with information to come forward, and consequently an angry mob formed at either end of the corridor that was home to her office, stopping anyone who tried to pass.

“The worst thing is that I’m not even sure they’re actually together,” Chris said with a sigh. “They’re certainly not out. One of them had a girlfriend literally last month. I mean, there have always been rumours. They’re best friends. If there was anything going on, it was secretive.” He turned to PJ. “We’ve never been secretive. If she found out about them, we don’t have a chance.”

PJ put his arm around Chris’s shoulders. Chris had taken the news particularly badly. One of the boys, a fifth year called Dean, was a reserve on the quidditch team, and so Chris knew him well.

“As long as she can’t prove they did anything ‘gay’ after Halloween, she can’t expel them. The rule only came into place as of November. Past activities regardless.” PJ murmured reassuringly.

“I can’t just stop being gay though!” Chris said angrily.

“No rule against being gay,” PJ sighed. “Just no doing gay things.”

“Great,” Chris muttered. “So we just have to all break up and practice abstinence till we leave Hogwarts.”

Phil and Dan sat on the sofa opposite them, bodies very close together. Neither had said much for the past hour.

“Phil, you’re bisexual though,” Chris mused. “If you could just, only think about girls for the next two years you’ll be okay.”

“You can’t help who you fall in love with.” Phil said quietly.

Chris turned to PJ, his expression pained. “I know. Of course I know. How could she do this? I think I could kill her, really I could.”

“There’s no justifying it,” Dan spoke up. “She keeps going on about how it’s unprofessional. How she’s not allowing heterosexual couples either. But the rule sets are completely different. For straight people it’s just ‘no pda’. Eight inches apart when in the corridors. It’s a bit silly, but really you probably shouldn’t be exchanging saliva on a public staircase anyway. It’s gross, and not what you want to see at seven in the morning heading down to breakfast with a hangover. If you get caught you get to write lines for two hours. Woe is you.” Dan stretched his legs out in front of him, cracking his knuckles. “If we get caught even holding hands, anywhere in the castle, it’s instant expulsion.”

“Technically,” PJ said miserably. “You don’t have to even be touching. ‘Engaging in same sex relations’. Just the fact that you’re seeing each other is enough.”

Chris growled, kicking out at the footstool between them. “If I wasn’t so angry I think I would cry.”

~

Umbridge’s brief but tyrannical rein over Hogwarts was potent enough to make the history books, but the sheer quantity of heinous crimes often left some of her subtler attacks unreported. Her prejudices were many. When Hogwarts’ history was documented - in novels, histories and journals - her homophobic tirade was often neglected for sheer lack of space in the volume. It was, after all, a short spell that affected only a few. But to those few, it was the world.

~

Nobody noticed the owl at the window until it pecked at the glass so hard it knocked itself out and nearly toppled off the ledge. Phil was the first up to rescue the startled bird and retrieve the scroll tied to its leg.

“It’s from Sophie,” he said, unrolling the parchment and scanning the ink with a frown.

“What does she want?” Asked PJ.

Phil’s expression changed slowly from confusion to glee, and he looked up from the letter with fire burning in his eyes. “It’s about Umbridge,” he said, a wide smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “They have a plan.”


	14. Crossfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An attack, retaliation, and Bubotuber pus.

Phase one relied on mass involvement of students, so, for the next few days all was quiet – at least on the outside. Through letters, notes, toilet cubicle graffiti, hidden messages, word of mouth and any other means possible, the layout of the plan was spreading throughout the castle. In the core of the operation were the students that had gathered to bring it all together and finalise the strategy, and as such one of the more passionate members of each house had taken control over their quarter of the students.

For Gryffindor, Chris had, predictably, accepted leadership. A quiet, intent frenzy had taken over his usual light-hearted manner, and students scattered out of his way as he marched stormily through the corridors. Carrie had taken Hufflepuff and PJ’s best friend Sophie was masterminding Ravenclaw, while a pale, blonde-haired boy was running the Slytherin side. Dan was secretly very glad his friends hadn’t expected him to lead Slytherin, as public speaking and giving people orders were not his strong points. He was quite happy to follow the orders that his far more capable (and charismatic) friends gave him, and offer input whenever it was required. Together with Phil, he was on the front lines of the attack. Really, he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

The fundamental flaw in Umbridge’s decree was not in the hidden, small-print afterthought, but in the first part: boys and girls were not allowed to be in close proximity to one another. Boys and boys, however…

It took professor Umbridge nearly a whole day to notice the change. She was used to seeing all-girl and all-boy groups of friends; that was natural and even more common after her newest decree. Likewise, she was used to seeing same gender pairs walking around together – after all, 85% of young people have same gender best friends - but what she wasn’t so used to however was seeing all the students seemingly in the whole of the castle hanging around in same-gender groups exclusively of two.

Two second year girls sat close together on the bottom stair of the marble staircase, heads close together, giggling over something they were reading in a magazine. On the other end of the stair lounged two sixth year boys, leaning against each other and staring up at the ceiling while they discussed their latest Astrology exam. Two Slytherin girls were doing each other’s hair in the entrance hall while another pair stood almost cheek to cheek comparing their new nose studs. A Ravenclaw boy was helping another with his Quidditch robes and two Hufflepuff girls were walking towards them, arm in arm, animatedly discussing next weekend’s match.

Umbridge frowned. Perhaps it was her imagination, it was just a coincidence that there were so many duos in one place. She turned to her left. On the floor, leaning up against a statue of Maud the Malicious, sat a first year girl with brown hair braided to one side. Laying across her lap, reading from a History of Magic book, lay a blonde girl that Umbridge recognised from the class she’d just taught. The Ravenclaw was very shy and barely spoke in lessons, and because of this she was a favourite of Umbridge’s. She was one of the good ones, mostly because she was so terrified of all the teachers and pretty much everything else.

“Paulina,” Umbridge asked sweetly as she approached. “Can I ask you something?”

Paulina dropped her book in surprise, her blue eyes wide with terror as she looked up. “Yes, of course.” She squeaked.

“Maybe I’m being silly,” Umbridge said with a high-pitched, girlie giggle. “Do you think my new decree is good? Why, people seem to only be talking to one other person these days!” She laughed again for good measure.

Paulina was trembling slightly, but her face was earnest. “Oh, no,” she shook her head. “I think it’s really good. I’ve spent more time with Annie than I ever did before. Because we can’t get too close to boys anymore, we have to remember who our girl-friends are.”

“Girlfriends?” Umbridge questioned, her voice a little strained.

“Friends who are girls,” Paulina clarified. “I’m remembering all over again how wonderful Annie is. I just want to spend all my time with her. I’ve never had that before, because all my friends were boys. But now, thanks to you, I’m only spending time with girls. I used to not like them very much, but I really do now. Thank you, Professor.”

Umbridge opened and closed her mouth a few times, searching for a reply, then walked away, wordless. Behind her, Annie Samson let out the breath she had been holding and gave Paulina’s shoulders a tight squeeze of congratulations.

~

“That’s the best bit about it,” Carrie was reporting happily to Sophie in a quiet corner of the library as Dan, Phil, Chris and PJ perched themselves on footstools and chairs. She had a grin on her lips that Dan hadn’t seen for many days. “It only works because she’s homophobic. We want her to believe that she’s made everyone gay. If she had two brain cells to rub together she’d realise that’s not how it works, people can’t change their sexuality. But she’s so terrified of the whole thing that it’s the automatic conclusion she jumps to.”

Sophie grinned back at her. “I’m so happy with how absolutely people got on board with it. I mean, it’s not a big ask – we’re only hanging around publically with same gender groups anyway – see Umbridge coming, split into pairs. Be as touchy as you dare. But you know, there are a few people who think she’s got the right idea. I thought they might cause a fuss, but so far I haven’t heard anything.”

“Me neither,” Chris shook his head. “Three of mine have spoken to her today, all similar questions.”

“You haven’t heard the best bit yet,” Phil said with a gleeful smile. “Apparently, Madam Pomfrey and McGonagall were holding hands earlier. Umbridge asked why, and McGonagall goes ‘Oh, it’s just the atmosphere in the castle at the moment. It’s all so lovely after your decree. I know it only applies to students, but it’s made me realise how little I’ve appreciated the female gender up until now.’ Umbridge looked like she was about to have an aneurism.”

“You should see Dumbledore,” Dan chortled. “He’s practically bouncing off the walls.”

“It was him that gave me the idea, actually,” Sophie confessed. No one could keep the smiles off their faces, and Madam Pince was very notably turning a blind eye to their illicit gathering.

“How so?” Carrie asked, intrigued.

“Well,” Sophie began. “I was walking down the second floor corridor on a free period, so it was pretty empty. Dumbledore was coming the other way. So obviously I did a half terrified, half polite smile and then, just out of the blue, he goes ‘have you got a plan yet?’ and I’m like, what? I swear that man has spies in the brickwork or something. Anyway, he then shakes his head and says ‘shame, I was hoping for something good. Well, best of luck to you. Have a very happy Christmas.’ And he walks off. So I sort of nod and grimace, and carry on trying to figure out what he was on about. I’ve barely gone two paces when I realise the suit of armour at the end of the corridor is singing something quiet, which is odd, you know? The only time they ever do anything is when they’re bewitched for festive stuff, like when they sing carols at Christmas. Naturally, I’m a little curious,” Sophie was getting into her story now, enjoying the suspense as her audience listened on eagerly. “Sure enough, he’s singing ‘Deck the Halls’, only something seemed to be going wrong with the charm, because he just kept repeating the line ‘don we now our gay apparel’. I have a little look at him, and then I turn around and Dumbledore had stopped at the other end of the corridor to watch me. So I just raise an eyebrow, and he winks and disappears round the corner.”

“You think he bewitched it to do that?” PJ asked.

“Maybe,” Sophie replied. “At least, I thought that’s probably what happened so I spent the whole rest of the day wondering what it meant. Like, ‘don we now our gay apparel’ – it was pretty clear his idea was for us all to go gay – the whole school, preferably. She can’t expel us all. But I didn’t think he’d want us to pretend to be gay. Some people might not be comfortable with that and even if it worked it’s a bit morally dodgy. It reinforces bad ideas. And I don’t think people would do it, the risk is too big. It only works if everyone does it so no one wants to go first just in case the rest chicken out and suddenly they’re expelled.

“This works way better, because we’re not doing anything wrong so there’s no risk. That’s why everyone joined in. And we’re protecting anyone actually in a same sex relationship, because it makes them much harder to spot when everyone is holding hands.”

“Crafty old codger, Alby.” Chris let out a low whistle. “He wasn’t even subtle about it. He flat out said ‘you beat that old crone to the ground’.”

“Well, I don’t think he ‘flat out said it’,” PJ pointed out with a smirk.

“Would have been better if he had,” Chris poked PJ in the leg with his foot. “But it was as close as. I was paraphrasing.”

“The point is,” Sophie said, rolling her eyes. “It’s working. But so is she. She’s not going to give up, she’s going to be coming up with a retaliation and we need to be ready for it with phase two. Do you reckon we could get a meeting together for Friday lunch?”

Chris nodded. “People are itching to get going. I reckon part of the reason we’ve managed such mass involvement is because everyone hates Umbridge so damn much. I mean, there are a fair few students that would love to see anything not-hetero wiped out completely, but they’re willing to give up on that dream for the chance of knocking Umbridge to the ground.”

“Yeah, she doesn’t really help herself there.” Carrie said amused. “Friday it is. Usual place? Behind the mirror in the fourth floor corridor?”

“It’s a date.” Sophie said with a wink, and Carrie’s cheeks burned suddenly crimson.

~

Friday dawned cold and clear. The smell of Christmas wasn’t quite yet in the air, but the anticipation was. Sophie noted that she had yet to spot a suit of armour spouting Christmas carols besides the rogue one that had led her to her epiphany. It was an adventure taken up wholeheartedly last year, what with the visiting delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, but with varying degrees of success. It was quite something to hear ‘Oh Come, All Ye Faithful’ sung by an empty helmet that only knew half the words, and on several occasions Filch had to extract Peeves the poltergeist from the suits where he had taken to hiding, filling in the gaps in the songs with his own, slightly more explicit lyrics.

The Fat Lady was the first of the Hogwarts inhabitants to embrace the Christmas spirit, a wreath of gold tinsel around her head like a halo. As Dan waited outside the Gryffindor common room for Chris and Phil, she gushed animatedly about Strauss’s _Salome_ libretto.

“It’s not an easy piece,” the fat lady was saying. “You have a teenage girl expected to sing with the voice of a Brünnhilde, but after all, this is a girl gripped with teenage passion and hormonal turmoil. I don’t think it’s entirely unreasonable, if anything it only adds to the beauty of it.”

Dan nodded vaguely, checking his watch again. The password had changed overnight, but Phil and Chris had been in a Charms lesson together and Phil probably hadn’t even registered as he would have just walked through after Chris. Dan hoped they weren’t waiting inside for them while Dan was stuck outside unable to get through. He glanced over his shoulder, squinting for the sight of a Gryffindor who’d be able to let him in or at least take a message to Chris and Phil.

A figure appeared at the end of the corridor and Dan’s face lit up, only to fall again as the blue scarf around the tall boy’s neck caught the light.

“Are you even listening to me?” The Fat Lady scolded, and Dan jerked round guiltily.

“Yes, er, of course,” he mumbled. “I just don’t know much about opera.”

“Well if you only paid attention you might learn something,” she tutted. “Students get lazier every day. It’s no wonder grades are falling. This generation is spoilt and self-righteous.”

Dan was saved the trial of finding a suitable answer by a tap on the shoulder.

“Dan, you walnut. Did you not recognise me?” PJ asked.

“You were far away!” Dan protested, pulling the Ravenclaw into a hug. “Maybe I should get my eyes tested.”

PJ chuckled, ruffling Dan’s hair. “Still shorter than me, kid. What you waiting for? Are they dithering around up there?”

“Password’s changed,” Dan grunted, ducking out of PJ’s embrace and trying to fix up his hair. “Only those morons didn’t realise I’m not telepathic.”

“How long have you been waiting?” PJ laughed. “The password is ‘Christmas Quiet’,” He said, turning pointedly to the Fat Lady.

“Oh, yes, well, I was just saying to this boy about-”

“Christmas Quiet.” PJ repeated firmly, and reluctantly the portrait swung forwards, allowing them to duck down inside.

“How are you doing?” PJ asked, his voice low as they made their way across the common room towards the stairs. His tone was conversational, but Dan knew what he meant.

“I’m ok,” Dan said with a half-sigh. “It hasn’t really changed much as we were hardly skipping down the corridors hand in hand before, but it’s that constant paranoia. I’m scared to even look at Phil in public. I feel just a little bit sick, but all the time. Even in private, I’m still scared. What if she has spies? What if she’s put things in the rooms to check up on us? There aren’t a lot of places in this castle that are really truly private, except perhaps at the bottom of the lake, but that’s hardly the most romantic location.”

“I don’t know,” PJ chuckled. “Have you ever met the mer-people? I reckon they’re onto a good thing. They’ve got corals down there that blow these massive bubbles and there’s a hot spring coming out of the rocks.”

“What, like a hot tub?”

“What?”

“Never mind. Muggle thing.”

“You have mer-people?” PJ asked, interested.

“Only one. She’s called Ariel.”

“Really?!”

“No.” Dan rolled his eyes. “Well, except for Disneyland.”

“What’s that?”

“Christ. I’ll tell you another time.”

They had reached Chris’s dormitory and PJ shoved the door open, calling Chris’s name, but was met with no reply. Confused, Dan and PJ stared around the empty room.

“Where are they?” Dan asked, his voice small. “They wouldn’t have gone without us.”

PJ must have picked up the worry in Dan’s voice because he turned to him, his eyes suddenly sincere. “Don’t be silly. Nothing’s happened to them. Something came up and they went on without us. Come on, let’s go or we’ll be late. Maybe they went straight there.”

“I know, I know,” Dan said, his voice a little sheepish. “It’s like what I said, though. I’m paranoid. I’m constantly scared. The tiniest thing has got me worried.”

“I get it,” PJ said wryly. “I have to admit, my heart dropped a little there too. But there are a million and one reasons why they’re not here. If it wasn’t for our favourite decree, we wouldn’t have thought anything of it. C’mon, let’s go beat those two losers up for scaring us so much.”

~

There was something unusual about the atmosphere in the room, Dan decided as they entered the secret passageway on the fourth floor that had become their headquarters. Maybe it was the way everyone turned to look at him and PJ when they entered, or maybe it was the sudden hushed silence. Dan picked out Carrie’s face in a corner. She was staring straight at them, her lower lip trembling, something almost fearful in her expression.

PJ had slowed to a halt and was taking in the sea of faces, and Dan could tell he was thinking the same thing. _What had happened?_

“Carrie?” PJ said questioningly, but even as he said it, Dan knew the answer.

“You, haven’t heard?” Carrie asked, her voice a little faint, and Dan and PJ shook their heads.

Sophie got up and took PJ’s arm gently. Dan hadn’t seen her sitting in the shadows by the door, but her face was pale and lined with worry.

“It’s Chris and Phil, she said, her voice cracking. “Umbridge took them in for questioning. She said she was going to expel them.”

The scene swam in front of Dan’s eyes and the rest of Sophie’s words came out blurred and distance, as if he was underwater.

“I guess we should have seen this coming,” she continued. “It makes sense. The problem is mass organisation of the student body. United, we are stronger than her – there’s nothing she can do. But organisation requires leadership or it will all fall apart. She figured out who the leaders were.”

“How did she know?” PJ said hoarsely.

“Chris was obvious. He hadn’t exactly been secretive about his sexuality, before the decree. He’s a natural leader – he’s quidditch captain, he’s charismatic, he’s vocal and he’s likeable. He’s also skipped a lot of lessons recently, and has been seen all over the castle in places he shouldn’t be talking to people from different houses and years.

“As for Phil, well, a first year saw it happen. We don’t think she had meant to go for Phil. But he was walking with Chris and I think they said something about Umbridge being a hag and phase two of the plan and that was it, she pounced. She marched them both up to her office at wandpoint, and no one’s seen them since.”

PJ swore quietly, and then he swore again, loud and passionate and broken, again and again, yelling up at the stone ceiling. Sophie made no attempt to quiet him, instead casting a silencing charm on the door and slumping down on the floor.

No one spoke, sitting awkwardly listening to PJ’s yells and avoiding eye contact with the two boys stood by the door.

Dan still hadn’t said a word. He felt numb, staring blankly at the floor, and he didn’t notice that PJ had stopped screaming and started pacing.

“This is too much,” PJ was saying. “We need help. We’ll have to talk to the teachers, we have to save Chris and Phil. She has no proof that either of them are ‘engaging in same sex relations’, but if no one does anything she’ll quietly send them home before the other teachers have even realised what’s happening. We need to speak to Dumbledore. He can stop her.”

“I don’t know if he can, though,” Sophie said helplessly. “He doesn’t have the power that she has.”

“He has enough power to make sure she follows her own rules and that they get a fair trial.”

“How are we going to contact him?” Carrie asked briskly.

“McGonagall. She’s second in command, definitely closest to Dumbledore. And she likes Chris, for all the detentions she’s given him. She did make him Quidditch captain, after all. And she knew we were together – she caught us in her classroom one time- never mind. But she’s definitely not homophobic. I reckon it’s safe to talk to her. Anyone else?”

“Professor Sprout,” Dan spoke up, his head having finally stopped spinning. “I walked in on her with Madam Hooch behind the stands one night after Quidditch practice.”

There was a moment of silence. “Wow,” PJ said with a grin. “Carrie, will you talk to Sprout? She’s your head of house.”

“Yes of course,” Carrie said, her face starting to lighten. “You’re right, of course. She can’t expel them for calling her a hag and she has no way of proving what ‘plan’ they were talking about. They didn’t even reveal the code name.”

“I think we should get the teachers in on the whole thing,” Sophie said decidedly. “At least, the sympathetic ones. If we talk to Sprout and McGonagall I’m sure they’ll be able to handle that. And then we need to roll on phase two. Chris and Phil wouldn’t want us to give up, and shutting the whole decree down would be one sure way to free them from Umbridge’s spiny claws.”

There was a murmur of agreement, the atmosphere suddenly sombre again. The sheer size of the task ahead of them loomed momentous and daunting. Umbridge had the weight of the Ministry behind her. If the Ministry of Magic had decided that same sex relationships were not allowed at Hogwarts, could they really do anything about it?

 The rest of the meeting passed in a bit of a blur. Everyone was in a hurry to get out of the small room filled so stiflingly with an uncomfortable fog, and the near constant glances over at the two boys hunched over silently by the door were starting to get to those sitting nearby. No one quite knew what to say, but Dan and PJ barely even registered the strained atmosphere. They were the only two that didn’t jump up the moment the meeting was adjourned, instead getting laboriously to their feet only as the last of the students slipped out through the dusty mirror and Carrie ushered them forwards.

“Stop being mopey,” she said briskly. “She won’t expel them. And they’re not muggleborns – Phil’s Dad is a very well respected scientist. If Umbridge does kick them out, their families will launch an appeal and they’ll be back here in no time. Besides, I’ve been reading up. She can’t just slip them quietly out of the door just because she says so. There’s a lot of paperwork to fill out and it has to go through all the proper procedures and everything. I really don’t think her decree would be able to override all that.”

“But what if it does?” PJ said miserably. “They’ll have their wands snapped. We won’t see them for months, and they’ll have no future. Their lives will be ruined. And anyway, to convict them of having ‘same sex relations’ she’d have to find who the relations were with.”

Carrie pursed her lips. “Look, thinking like that isn’t going to help them. The students at this school are rallying behind us. You should use your angst to fuel your rage and jump into the campaign with renewed vigour and passion.”

PJ sighed, but Dan nodded, a small shiver running through him.

“Look, Peej, they’re not going to die. She can’t torture them. And she can’t prove anything,” Dan said. “She’s just trying to scare us and break up our organization. She’ll lock them up for as long as she dares, but everything’s okay. They’re going to be okay and we’re going to be okay. The only person going down is Umbridge.”

The rest of the day passed in a smoky haze. It was disconcerting, Hogwarts without Phil, and it had only been 5 hours. Dan kept expecting Phil’s face to appear round a corner with a grin, or to get a tap on a shoulder and then a vivid reconstruction of the events that had occurred in Umbridge’s office, with Chris jumping on the tables to perform and Phil comparing Umbridge to a wild, many fanged beast.

He slipped unhappily into bed and then, eventually, into sleep. His bed seemed very cold and very large without a warm spot to his left from a recently departed Lester.

~

While Dan and PJ had spent almost every day together the whole year, it was oddly awkward just the two of them eating breakfast together the next day. Word had got around quick, and the other students were giving them a wide berth for fear of having to think of something appropriate to say. Umbridge wasn’t at the staff table and Dan and PJ had exchanged a glance, but refrained from voicing the dark thoughts that spun in their heads.

She hadn’t missed a single breakfast all year. What could she possibly be doing? And where had she kept Phil and Chris overnight? The castle didn’t house any prison cells, at least to Dan’s knowledge.

His preoccupation lasted all the way across the sodden vegetable until he merged with the Gryffindor and Slytherin students arriving in greenhouse three, but here he was distracted by Professor Sprout showing the class one of the ugliest plants Dan had ever seen. His first thought was that they weren’t plants at all but thick, black giant slugs, protruding vertically out of the soil. Each was squirming slightly, and had a number of large shiny swellings upon it, which appeared to be full of liquid.

“Bubotubers,” Professor Sprout told them briskly. “They need squeezing. You will collect the pus, I say, in these bottles. Wear your dragon-hide gloves, it can do funny things to the skin when undiluted, Bubotuber pus.”

Squeezing the Bubotubers was disgusting, but oddly satisfying. As each swelling was popped, a large amount of thick, yellowish green liquid burst forth, which smelled strongly of petrol. They caught it in the bottles and by the end of the lesson had collected several pints.

“Howell, can I have a word?” Said professor sprout, stoppering the last bottle with a cork as the rest of the class filed out of the greenhouse.

“Yes, of course.” Dan said, surprised. Dan had never shown any particular interest or ability in Herbology over the years, and he was surprised the Professor even knew his name.

“I’ve just had a word with a Miss Carrie Fletcher,” Professor Sprout said meaningfully, casting a surreptitious glance over her shoulder at the backs of the disappearing students. “You are… friends with Phil Lester, correct?”

Dan nodded glumly.

“I heard about what happened. I’m really sorry. Lester is a favourite of mine, the levitating pansies he grew last year… spectacular. I’ve not seen anything quite so vibrant outside of the Brazilian Rainforests. That boy has a real talent. But don’t worry, we’re working on it. He’ll be back in the greenhouse in no time, that toad is going down I tell you.”

Hearing the words from a teacher lifted Dan’s heart from where it was slumped miserably in his ribcage, and suddenly victory seemed tangible and quite within their grasp. The students were helpless animals who could only be herded where they were directed and slaughtered at will, but the teachers had power. Despite himself, Dan’s mouth curved into a smile.

“Thank you, Professor,” he said sincerely. “We sure are working on it.”

“As are we, my boy. Attack from both sides. She doesn’t stand a chance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah it’s been nearly 6 months LOL SORRY basically i trained and qualified as an english teacher and i was working and stuff and STRESS i just have 0 money atm and i’m in debt from studying and everything is gross and i just couldn’t justify spending time on anything that wasn’t earning money eg writing bc like life u know i do have to eat
> 
> incidentally though, i am now a qualified english teacher - i teach efl/esol/etc (english as a foreign language - i teach all abilities -> don’t know a single word of english right through to near native/advanced level (A1-C2+)) if you want english lessons over skype/video call then please email me at ionaroseteacher@gmail.com i am super cheap as am newly qualified and i can offer lessons or conversation classes (to help improve your spoken english). I’m also nice and friendly and probably less scary than other teachers as i’m only 18 lol pls hire me i am gr8 and i want to help <3
> 
> (I’m CELTA qualified (cambridge university qualification) so like, i am a srs teacher and stuff dw)
> 
> thank y’all for being awesome and supporting this fic - it won a bunch of awards in the phanficawards and i just about died (i had a little spasm when i had to announce my own fic though omg that was awkward how are you supposed to react to that who knows)
> 
> ily a lot and i promise that i’ll at least /try/ not to abandon writing for so long again
> 
> <33333


	15. Life in Pink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> La Vie en Rose – Life in pink, viewing life through rose-tinted glasses, seeing the bright side of life.

_La Vie en Rose – Life in pink, viewing life through rose-tinted glasses, seeing the bright side of life._

Sophie had come up with the code name, _Operation: La Vie en Rose_ , while listening to Edith Piaf in the shower, and the student body had taken it up with gusto. Plans could be discussed in broken French without fear of being overheard, and some students had even taken to wearing items of pink around the castle to show support for the cause. Umbridge could be seen eyeing the sudden array of pink scarves and socks with suspicion, and Dan wondered shrewdly how long it would take before the colour pink got banned too.

 “This has worked out really well,” Sophie said, shovelling porridge enthusiastically into her mouth between breaths. “ _Life in Pink_ translates pretty well to the overall goal of the plan – you know, everything is gay and there’s nothing that witch can do about it – and it’s given people a structure to their attack. It’s also given me the best idea for phase two.”

Before she could reveal her plan however she was interrupted by the arrival of the post owls. A large Tawny with a black crest landed with a thump in front of Sophie and ruffled its feathers importantly.

“Isn’t that one of the Hogwarts owls?” She said, confused. “Why would someone send a letter to me from school, when I’m in school?”

Dan shrugged. “Only one way to find out. It’s sealed with the Hogwarts crest so I don’t think it’s anything malicious.”

“So it is,” Sophie said, bemused, slipping her finger under the thick parchment and unrolling it. Her eyebrows receded into her hairline briefly, and she turned to Dan and PJ.

“It’s McGonagall,” she said, half afraid, half excited. “She wants to speak to us. Four of us. I asked her specifically about Chris and Phil, so I’m guessing she means you Peej, and Dan. Carrie should come too.”

PJ nodded. “I’m in her next lesson, I’ll let her know. When and where?”

“Today at lunch time. Dumbledore’s office.”

“Oh.”

~

The walk to Dumbledore’s office was a tense one. They knew where it was, of course, but when they reached the stone gargoyle they were stumped.

“Er,” Carrie said after a moment’s silence, awkwardly addressing the gargoyle. “We’re supposed to be meeting Professor McGonagall?”

Nothing happened.

“Well,” she said, pushing her hair behind her ear. “It was worth a try.”

“You need a password,” PJ said with a shake of the head. “So I guess we should just wait here.”

“I’m nervous.” Dan said. “Is anyone else nervous?”

PJ nodded. “I’ve never exchanged more than two words with Dumbledore.”

“We don’t know he’s in there,” Sophie interjected. “For all we know, this might be the only place that Umbridge can’t listen in to, so McGonagall wanted to meet us here.”

“Maybe,” PJ murmured, but he didn’t sound convinced.

Dan shifted his hands from his trouser pockets into his robes. “I haven’t ever spoken to Professor McGonagall outside of lessons, let alone Dumbledore.”

“She’s a good egg,” Carrie said with a smile. “Just a terrifying one.”

“Yeah, like a dragon egg just about to hatch.” PJ winked. “Did you know, it took five and a half minutes for the Sorting Hat to decide whether to put her in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw.”

“Five and a half?!” Dan gasped. “That’s crazy. It felt like forever with me, but it can’t have been more than twenty seconds.”

“How do you even find something like that out?” Sophie said sceptically.

“Flitwick told me, me and him, we’re like that.” PJ crossed his index finger with his middle and waggled it in Sophie’s face.

“Sure.” She said, rolling her eyes.

Before PJ could retaliate, they were interrupted by a grating noise as the stone gargoyle began to shift, spinning away to reveal a secret stair.

Dan looked up and down the corridor, but he couldn’t see any sign of a trigger.

“How do they know we’re here?” He asked.

Carrie shrugged. “Any number of detection spells. Which means they knew we were here five minutes ago, they were just letting us squirm.”

Together, the four students climbed the spiral stair. There was a brief tussle at the top before PJ was pushed forwards to knock. The door swung open immediately, and the students’ eyes opened wide.

It was a large and beautiful circular room, full of funny little noises. It was as eccentric as Dan could have imagined, yet it still managed to feel warm and inviting. A number of curious silver instruments stood on spindle-legged tables, whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke. The walls were covered with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses, all of whom were snoozing gently in their frames.

Behind an enormous, claw-footed desk at the other room sat Professor Dumbledore, with Professor McGonagall to his left sipping out of a steaming mug of tea.

“Come in, come in,” Dumbledore said warmly. “Please, take a seat.”

With an almost unnoticeable flick of his wand, four large, pink, squashy armchairs appeared out of thin air about an inch above the ground and settled down with a satisfying thud in a cluster around the desk. Dan, PJ, Sophie and Carrie hurried forwards and seated themselves nervously, crossing and uncrossing their hands in their laps.

“Now, to business,” Dumbledore said jovially. “I’m sure the most pressing question on your tongues is regarding the whereabouts of your friends. I can inform you that they are currently in a reportedly cage-like structure in Professor Umbridge’s office, where she is holding them apparently indefinitely.”

“Is that even legal?!” Carrie blurted out.

“Oh, of course not.” Professor McGonagall said briskly. “But there is very little you can do on that side of the equation. What matters is that they’re safe, and she assures us that she’s feeding them. Certainly, we have entrusted the house elves to send up more than enough food for two teenage boys, mostly in the form of cake. She has also promised that she has not harmed them in any way, however…”

Dan knew what she was thinking. She, like him, was picturing the small army of students sporting thin, pink lines on the backs of their hands. Abruptly, Dan’s stomach twisted itself into a French plait. If Umbridge was willing to etch wounds into the flesh of teenagers just for forgetting their homework, what was she doing to her captives that she accused of her cardinal sin? He didn’t want to think about it.

“So, how are we getting them out?” PJ said tensely.

McGonagall and Dumbledore exchanged a glance.

“While she has an excuse to keep them, there’s nothing we can do to free them.” Professor McGonagall said with a sigh. “That is to say, we can’t step in and get them out based on Hogwarts rules unless we can prove that they are in danger, because she’s obtained an overriding warrant from the Ministry – she has somehow managed to persuade them that Chris and Phil are a danger to the other students. However, I’m sure there would be a way of temporarily freeing them to get a little daylight…” She raised an eyebrow pointedly at Dan and PJ, but chose not to elaborate. “We’re taking measures – insisting that they must continue their studies until a decision has been reached so that they don’t fall behind – and we hope eventually to get her to relax the hold that she is keeping, but our priority right now is to abolish the entire decree. As I’m sure you are aware, outside of the school there is an increasingly mounting movement to overthrow the legislation. There is a group of around a hundred protestors camped out outside the Ministry as we speak, and the number grows daily. The teachers too are doing what we can, but the board of governors are largely Ministry employees that don’t want to lose their jobs. That’s why the pressure needs to carry on increasing from both sides, until she is forced to quietly scrap the decree in order to avoid a much bigger fight.”

“Oh, can we not go all out and use this to get rid of her entirely?” Carrie said wistfully.

“Tempting as that idea is, Miss Fletcher,” McGonagall said wryly. “I don’t think it will be as easy as that. Rest assured, Hogwarts is resilient. It has come under attack many times through the years, but always manages to rid itself of evil in the end, by any manner of means.”

Carrie’s lips twitched into a small smile. “Ok. So, what do you want us to do?”

“That is up to you to decide,” Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling, “But I rather like the direction your plan is taking at the moment. Professor McGonagall and I were just wondering if there was anything we could do to help.”

~

It was the Friday before the first Quidditch match of the season. The first of the winter snow lined the grounds an inch thick, and icicles hung like teardrops from the tree branches. While common rooms and classrooms were lit by hearty fires, the corridors were very cold. Carrie shivered, pulling her scarf tight around her neck. She and Dan had spent most of the week knitting an array of scarves, hats and gloves; all deliciously soft, all fabulously pink. She sported heavy purple shadows around her eyes to show for this however, and she seemed jumpy.

“It’s starting,” she said to Dan as he joined her at the window.

“It looks so cool.” Dan smiled as he gazed out of the window.

It was only subtle, at least for now, but the snow that fell from the sky in soft spirals and silent twirls was ever so slightly tinted pink.

“Je vois la vie en rose.” Carrie said, turning to Dan, her eyes alight.

_I see life in pink._

~

The Great Hall was packed for dinner, and Dan’s grin only grew wider as he took in the sea of pink. It had been steadily building over the past weeks, a pair of socks here and jumper there, but now, with school finished for the week and most uniform abandoned, the pink rose had bloomed.

“Do you think she’s noticed the snow?” Dan asked Carrie under his breath as they went to join PJ and Sophie on the Ravenclaw table.

Just at that moment, Umbridge was to be seen taking off her coat and angrily shaking the pink snow off onto the floor, combing it out of her hair so angrily that it puffed up frizzy around her face and she had to stop and try force it back into the hairpins.

“She noticed.” Carrie said decidedly.

“I don’t think much of her new wardrobe. If she’d stuck with the pink, then the snow wouldn’t have mattered.” PJ smiled up at them in greeting as they slid down onto the bench.

At the beginning of the week, as the pink clothing really began to spread, Umbridge had traded in her usual pink robes for a set in soft lavender and had, seemingly, not changed since.

Just as they were all laughing Umbridge looked up, scanning the hall and locking on the group. Her eyes narrowed and PJ looked down quickly into his plate.

“Bugger,” he muttered.

“She can’t do anything.” Carrie said soothingly, pulling a pink scarf from her bag and wrapping it around PJ’s neck.

“Carrie,” PJ said wearily. “It’s boiling in here. Don’t you think my pink shirt, trousers, socks and shoes are enough?”

“Dan and I were up for hours knitting those. It was meant to be a present.” Her brown eyes were wide and hurt, but PJ wasn’t falling for it.

  “And I will treasure it forever,” he said, unwinding it and stuffing it into his bag. “But I think for now, given the climate, I’ll swap it for a bowtie.”

Dan fished one out of his pocket and handed it over.

“Stripy,” PJ smirked. “Sweet.”

Up until now, Umbridge had very much considered it to be a battle between staff and students. Sophie recounted gleefully how the Professor had stood outside in the snow for half an hour yelling counter curses at the sky before trudging disgruntled and pink in the cheeks back inside, muttering under her breath about the syllabus needing changing, as clearly the magic taught was far too advanced for such young students. But, as the food arrived course by course, the students at the tables could watch first-hand as realisation dawned cartoon-like slowly across Umbridge’s face.

The starters that appeared on the golden dishes ranged from beetroot salad to smoked salmon and shrimp aperitifs. Rows upon rows of giant hams followed, with plates of pigs in blankets – the bacon mouth-wateringly crispy - and cranberry sauce. For desert however, the house elves really excelled themselves. Cakes and doughnuts with sweet pink frosting, strawberries and raspberries and pomegranate seeds in large pink goblets, light pink sponge cake and strawberry ice-cream and coconut ice and pink macaroons and four big jugs of berry cordial for every table. The napkins were pink. The golden plates seemed to be fading slowly out into a rose colour and, to Umbridge’s horror, the floating candles (that should be only be controllable by the Hogwarts staff) were burning with bright pink flames – thousands and thousands of them bobbing gently in the air.

“It’s really quite horrendous isn’t it.” PJ said cheerfully.

“Well, it gets the point across.” Dan poured a healthy smothering of strawberry sauce over his ice-cream.

“This is the best day of my life.” Carrie beamed, happily folding a tiny pink dragon out of her napkin.

“I’ve never seen you wear pink before in your life.” PJ rolled his eyes.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate it,” Carrie said defensively. “And I do own pink clothes, actually. The funeral black of the Hogwarts robes doesn’t allow for a lot of colour.”

“Hang on, that’s the signal,” Sophie interrupted.

Over at the Gryffindor table, a redhead boy had released a couple of pink sparks at the floor between the house tables, where they couldn’t be seen by the staff. PJ leaned over the table and passed the signal on to the next house, and all along the table students were surreptitiously pulling their wands out from their robes.

“You ready?” PJ muttered to Dan as they swung their legs over the bench and swivelled round.

Dan nodded as a shout went up and the warbling voice of Edith Piaf suddenly and very loudly filled the Great Hall.

_Des yeux qui font baisser les miens  
Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche_

Fifty odd students had their wands pointed outwards and were muttering the incantation, while laughter and cheers filled the Hall, and the rest of the students got very suddenly to their feet.

“Now!” PJ whispered, taking Dan’s hand and sprinting out of the Hall, hidden amongst all the commotion.

Thanks to Umbridge’s decree, the houses had had to resort to sitting almost exclusively with boys on one side and girls on the other, so that girls and boys didn’t get too close. Non-binary students had had a field day at the beginning, approaching Umbridge and politely asking who they were supposed to sit with, and watching her squirm as she tried to decide out which category to put them into.

With boys all standing next to each other, and girls all standing next to each other, and the house tables abruptly and mysteriously disappeared, the students partnered up (same-sex only, of course, so as to follow Umbridge’s rules) and began to slow dance, singing along with various degrees of terrible French accents.

 _Quand il me prend dans ses bras_  
Il me parle tout bas  
Je vois la vie en rose

 

Outside, Dan and PJ took the steps two at a time. They arrived breathless outside of Umbridge’s office and drew their wands, giving each other a nod as they cast their spells. The lock sprang with a click, and they hurried inside.

 _“Howell, one moment. So you want to learn some advanced curse breaking spells?”_ Professor McGonagall had said, taking Dan aside at the end of a lesson earlier that week.

_“What? No, I-”_

McGonagall had ignored him, turning and summoning a heavy wooden chest _. “Of course, it’s pretty advanced. You wouldn’t normally tackle this sort of thing till seventh year, but I am always ready to encourage those keen to progress their spellwork.”_

Dan had caught on and practiced hard, but now, faced with a door-less, cast iron wall, he didn’t feel so confident.

“What should we try first?” Dan asked PJ, panting slightly.

“Not sure,” PJ admitted. “It’s probably just for show. To make them miserable, you know? Let’s just go with the order Professor McGonagall taught us. She said she went for the most likely first.”

It took them 3 tense minutes to reveal the hidden door in the iron block and five more to spring it open, and Dan could tell PJ was just as scared as he was about what they’d find inside.

Phil’s face appeared at the door first, very pale, his hair unkempt and greasy and his robes a mess. He squinted into the light.

“Dan?” he said incredulously, his voice hoarse. “What are you doing here?”

“Rescuing you, of course.” Dan replied.

“It’s a heroic jail break.” PJ grinned.

“Honestly Phil, you look terrible. But you know, it’s nice to see you.” Dan’s voice broke at the end of his remark, and the two boys ran forwards, pulling each other into a tight embrace and clinging to each other’s robes. “You smell awful.” Dan said conversationally, his voice muffled by Phil’s shoulder.

There had been no sound from the holding pen, and PJ poked his head tentatively around the door and strained his eyes into the darkness. “Chris?” He said hesitantly.

“Oh, he’s not in a good way.” Phil said, breaking away breathlessly from Dan and moving forwards to give PJ a quick hug. “Have you got your wands? Of course you have. She put him into an enchanted sleep because he was making himself really sick, you know, just to spite her because he knew she couldn’t let him die.”

They dragged Chris out into the light and Dan winced at the pallid complexion and purple bruises across his face. PJ knelt down anxiously, smoothing Chris’s hair and muttering a revival charm.

For a moment, nothing happened, and real worry creased across PJ’s face. Then Chris began to wake, bleary-eyed in the light. “Peej?” He croaked after a couple of blinks. “What are you doing here?”

“That’s what I said.” Phil grinned, but PJ paid no attention, pulling Chris into a gentle but passionate embrace and mumbling softly into his hair.

“C’mon,” Phil muttered, gesturing with his thumb to move out into the corridor. “I have questions.”

“I can imagine.”

They stood outside of the door, hands intertwined, eyes hungrily drinking in each other’s faces.

“How long were we in there?” Phil asked.

“Jesus.” Dan winced. “That bad, huh? This is day six.”

“Six. Huh. It feels like weeks. Okay. So what is this? I’m assuming that, as it’s you two as opposed to Dumbledore, this isn’t a permanent solution.”

Dan shook his head heavily. “No. But it might be. We were hoping to show you, if you’re up to it.”

“Show us what?”

“Well, we needed a distraction. So we rolled on phase two, only we had a little help from the staff.”

Phil raised an eyebrow. “A protest?”

“The whole school. After dinner. We reckon we’ve got a good bit of time left, with that many students. Phil?”

“Yes?”

“I love you. I’ve been so worried.”

“I love you too. I haven’t exactly been cheerful either, I’ll admit. Excuse me if I don’t kiss you just now though. My mouth tastes like corpses.”

Dan pointed his wand at Phil’s mouth and there was a tiny popping noise before Dan clamped their lips enthusiastically together, winding his fingers through Phil’s tangled hair.

“That was very nice,” Phil said, gasping for air as they broke apart. “But I think you overdid the breath mint charm.” His eyes were watering as he clutched at his throat and Dan sniggered.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Dan said, plunging his hands into his robes. “We saved you these – part of phase two that you missed – and also in case she wasn’t feeding you.” He pulled out a selection of the pink treats from desert and Phil laughed, stuffing the macaroons eagerly into his mouth.

Dan joined him in his laughter, giddy with an ecstasy that had avoided him for nearly a week now and flooded with overwhelming relief. Phil wasn’t dead. Nor was Chris. Everything had gone as planned. Things were looking up.

His laughter faded however as Chris and PJ appeared at the door to Umbridge’s office, Chris leaning heavily on PJ, his face gaunt.

“We’re going to head down to the Great Hall, you coming?” PJ asked, his arm protectively around Chris’s shoulders, his expression strained but happy.

Dan and Phil nodded, taking Chris’s other arm and hurrying down the corridor.

~

The commotion had escalated since Dan and Phil had left, and the Great Hall was filled with whoops and cheers and chants alongside Edith’s crooning. The four slipped in unnoticed at the back, and took in the scene.

Banners had been unveiled demanding an end to homophobic legislation (and several demanding an end to Umbridge) and a group or first years with picket signs marched in a circle chanting catchy slogans. A huge rainbow made from smoke and sparks stretched from one corner of the Hall to the other, and a fluffy, pink, smoke-unicorn was to be seen prancing up and down it. Pink hearts fell like confetti from the ceiling where snow once had been, and the candles kept rearranging themselves into increasingly crude messages and demands.

Umbridge was stood on the staff table, yelling for order and firing sparks and bangs into the air that were only adding to the chaos. The rest of the teachers sat completely still, watching the madness unfold and barely containing their grins. As the four students watched, Umbridge climbed exhausted down from the table and turned angrily to the other teachers.

Professor McGonagall could be seen mouthing her response, politely reminding Umbridge, seemingly for the fourth time that, according to Hogwarts rules followed for centuries, the student body are entitled to peaceful protest regarding the management, rules and running of the school.

“Peaceful?!” Umbridge shrieked. “You call this peaceful?! We need to stop this right now! I can override any of your archaic damn rules with Ministry ruling, don’t think that I won’t! Fudge will pass it!”

“Well, you’re welcome to send him an owl.” Dumbledore said pleasantly.

~

At the back of the hall, as Edith made her fourth revolution of her classic ‘La Vie en Rose’, two couples looking drawn, emotionally exhausted yet bursting with happiness joined the throng of slow dancers.

Dan’s arms wrapped around Phil’s shoulders, drinking in his warmth and his musky smell, their bodies pressed close together.

“How bad was it?” Dan murmured.

“Pretty bad,” Phil admitted. “Honestly, I think she got to us. I had given up hope, really I had. I’d stopped even fantasising about something like this. That’s what she wanted. She wanted us to think we didn’t have a chance against her, that she was winning and that we’d have to give up eventually, just to get out.”

“Did she… did she hurt you?”

“Yeah.” Phil breathed. “Sometimes. She was careful though, it was mostly emotional. She said she’d had you in and that you swore you never dated me and begged her not to expel you. She said she’d told you that if you turned me in you wouldn’t get into trouble, and that you’d looked unsure and asked for time to think about it. I knew she was lying, I knew it, but in that hole when it’s so dark and you’ve got nothing but your thoughts… I don’t know. It was bad.”

Dan pulled him tighter. “It is bad. The whole thing is bad. Honestly, I wasn’t even trapped in a dark, airless cage with no food and I still got pretty hopeless. I mean she’s right, this might not work. All she has to do is write more legislation. Make more rules. It’s so bad, Phil. McGonagall said that it was really illegal – keeping you and Chris locked up like that – but she got away with it. How can you fight a power that’s so, well, powerful? Is this what it’s going to be from now on? Taking turns in getting dragged in and tortured and beaten until eventually one of us cracks or some first year promises they saw us kissing in order to get out of doing their homework.”

“Shh,” Phil said, cutting Dan’s tirade short with a quick kiss.

“Phil,” Dan said, horrified. “We can’t here. Literally, everyone will see.”

“I know,” Phil said bitterly. “But I don’t care. I thought I’d never see you again. I was lying there for hours just trying to remember what you smelled like.”

“That doesn’t matter now.” Dan said softly. “That’s the past. It’s happened now, you can’t change it, it doesn’t matter. I’m here now. Now is what matters.”

“I know,” Phil mumbled into Dan’s robes. “I think this is the happiest I’ve been all year.”

“You don’t know what you’ve got until you’ve lost it.”

“Exactly.”

“God, Phil. I can’t imagine what it was like.”

“It’s probably better if you don’t.”

Dan stroked the back of Phil’s head gently as they revolved slowly on the spot.

“This is really cool, by the way,” Phil said softly. “You did good. Organising all this.”

“We had help. But it’s cool, right? Everyone. All the students. Umbridge has given up now, she’s just sitting on the floor looking sad. I think we might have done it. Am I going to jinx it if I say that?”

“I think things are going to be okay. Well, I’m not thinking much at the moment. I’m sleepy. But seeing everyone so passionate and so caring. It gives me back all the hope that I’d lost. Statistically, 90% of these people weren’t in the least affected by her decree, but they’re still risking everything for it. You know, people really are good at heart. Umbridge isn’t a person. She’s something else. Not sure what. Something evil. Maybe evil incarnate. But there’s too much good here. Everything’s going to be ok.” Phil nestled his face into Dan’s neck as he trailed off.

They span slowly. Above their heads, Edith Piaf sang on unceasingly.

 _Quand il me prend dans ses bras_  
Il me parle tout bas  
Je vois la vie en rose

 

When he takes me in his arms  
He speaks to me softly  
I see life in pink


	16. Flyers at Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rude interruption and something new

After about half an hour of commotion, Umbridge eventually swallowed her pride and approached the protestors to hear their demands.

“We’re staying right here,” Sophie proclaimed, the blonde Slytherin boy at her side. “This isn’t a brief demonstration, it’s a sit-in. We’re staying here until the decree is shoved right where it deserves: up your-”

“In the bin.” The Slytherin interjected hastily.

“We won’t starve,” Sophie continued. “The house elves stand with us. The only person starving is you.”

There was a moment of silence as the two women glared at each other, then Umbridge took a step forwards.

“This is preposterous,” She said, her voice dangerously quiet. “Poor, misguided children. I’m trying to help you. It’s for your own good, don’t you see? Your parents thanked me, the Ministry thanked me; I am taking bold steps for the future of the wizarding community that those who came before me didn’t have the guts to take. But you’re just children, you don’t understand. You should let the adults entrusted in taking care of you do their job.” She took a step closer until Sophie could feel her breath on her cheeks. “I can’t expel the whole school, but I can make you wish I had.”

Sophie blinked, her expression unsure, but she held her ground. “Our demands?” She questioned.

“I’m suspending the decree temporarily for a re-write, due to some elements being unclear.” Umbridge said shortly. She span on her heel and marched out of the Great Hall.

“Well?” Came a shout from the back of the room, all eyes on the two students. “Did we do it?”

“Well, I’m not really sure…”

“Is the decree gone? Can I kiss boys now?”

“You’re not even gay, you moron.”

“That doesn’t matter, I should be able to kiss whoever I want, whenever I want.”

“What like that house elf that you-”

“Oi!”

“Shhh! Let her talk! Well? Are we allowed ‘same-sex relations’ now?”

Sophie bit her lip. “I mean, yeah-”

Her ‘but’ was drowned out in the cheer that went up across the Great Hall, and she climbed helplessly down from her stool with a shrug.

“Let them celebrate,” the Slytherin muttered. “They’ve earned it.”

Students danced, hugged, cheered and kissed, and at the back of the hall there were two couples in particular that you’d have had to take a chainsaw to to break their lips apart.

~

“So, we may have won the battle, but the war’s not over yet.” PJ mused.

Sophie was recounting her encounter with Umbridge in the Ravenclaw common room over steaming mugs of hot chocolate, graciously provided by the house elves to celebrate their victory. Dan and Phil were sitting practically on top of each other, trying in vain to hold both hands while still drinking their hot chocolate. Chris sat at the foot of PJ’s armchair with PJ’s gangly legs draped over his shoulders like a scarf. He wasn’t saying much and still looked very tired, but blissfully happy. Carrie, Sophie, Charlie and Ben were sharing a sofa cuddled up under a blanket, and the cosy room was full to bursting with various other students wanting to celebrate, all inter-house animosity  temporarily forgotten (with the first quidditch match of the season – Hufflepuff vs Ravenclaw - the next day however, Dan was sure it would return with vigour after a night’s rest). The fire crackled in the hearth, and Dan lay his head on Phil’s shoulder, closing his eyes with a smile.

“What about the Slytherin dude though, whatshisname. I though you said he was a nob, Dan?”

“Huh?” Dan’s eyes snapped open. “Oh right, yeah. Well, he is. But he’s also really passionate about this. I don’t really know him, I can’t judge. He’s got a really rich and powerful dad and he never shuts up about it, and he’s not very nice to most people. But he might just be misunderstood. He’s madly in love with some guy from Gryffindor, and I think he really struggled with coming out at first. Maybe that’s why it’s so close to his heart. I think he’ll do a good job.” Dan wasn’t sure how much of that the others had been able to understand; too sleepy to lift his head from Phil’s shoulder, his jaw wasn’t able to move very much and it had all come out disjointed and muffled.

“That’s the crux, the job isn’t not over yet.” Carrie sighed. “We need to keep going.”

At that point they were interrupted by a rowdy group of Gryffindors on the next table, as a tall boy with red hair leaned his chair dangerously far back and twisted round. “We’re thinking a new line of attack is needed,” he said, swinging a little on his chair. “You guys have done a cracking job so far, but the fact remains that she’s a twisted and evil individual, and no amount of protesting is going to change someone who is genuinely sick to the core. I mean, her very name sounds like a vomit. You’re not going to change her world views. We need to just get rid of her, whatever it takes.”

Carrie turned to her friends with a shrug. “I don’t think anyone would object to that. Do you have a plan?”

The Gryffindor grinned a wide, toothy grin that seemed to stretch from one ear right to the other. “Yes, a plan. Code name: mayhem. It’s not a very complex construction, I’ll warrant, but I promise it’ll be effective. Just you wait, Ms Fletcher. Beautiful things are coming.”

“If you need any help just like, send me an owl.” Chris murmured from the floor, his voice croaky and his eyes shut fast. “I’m an avid fan of generalized mayhem.”

“I thought he was asleep.”

“He is.” PJ said, trailing his fingers lazily through Chris’s hair.

“But he just spoke?”

“Well he woke up, but now he’s asleep again.”

Sure enough, soft snores were floating up from the pile of robes on the floor, and PJ slipped down beside it to cocoon them both in a pink woollen blanket.

~

Everyone had been excited at the prospect of seeing how Umbridge was coping at breakfast, but her disgruntled figure was quickly overshadowed by the arrival of what seemed to Dan to be a literal swarm of owls.

“What’s going on?” He yelled to Phil, as thousands of small pieces of parchment fell from the sky.

“Flyer owls. Get it? Like, fly, because owls- you get it. Advertising. They’re not supposed to be able to get past Hogwarts’ defences, though.” Phil was doubled over covering his head with his hands and Dan quickly followed suit after a nasty clip on the ear from a low flying tawny.

“What, like spam?” He asked.

“What?”

“Never mind. What are they advertising?”

“We’ll find out soon enough.”

Almost immediately as he had spoken, the owls were gone, and a thick fog of fluttering parchment was all that remained, descending slowly on the tables. Chris reached up and plucked a leaflet out of the sky.

“Oh no,” he said, a gleeful grin spreading slowly across his face.

“What is it?” PJ asked.

‘Talons’ Tattoos’ Chris read. ‘Grand Hogsmede opening. All tattoos half price. Book now.’

“Oh, no.” Phil agreed.

“Why ‘oh no’?” Dan asked. “It sounds really cool.”

“It’s a recipe for disaster, a tattoo parlour so close to a school,” Chris explained. “Because you have to be of age to get one, but only 7th years are old enough. But, Hogwarts provides like, half the custom for the shops in Hogsmede. I don’t know how they got permission for it.”

“The thing is,” PJ carried on. “It’s going to become a status thing now. A competition. Who’s going to be the first to get a tattoo? And who’s going to be the first underage student to fool the tattooists? I’ll bet you anything, half the people that get them had no real desire for a tattoo before this shop opened.”

“I take your point,” Dan said, fishing a soggy flyer out of his cereal. “The teachers are probably going to say something. Do you think they’re against school uniform?”

“Definitely,” Phil nodded. “I mean, they can’t do anything about it if you get one on your bum but…”

A shock of red hair appeared over the buzzing students as Ben hurried over, leaning over Phil’s shoulder to grab the last croissant. “Who’s getting one then?” He asked with his mouth full.

“Well I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you.” Chris said with a grin.

“I’ve already booked. Grabbed one of their owls and sent a reply. Didn’t have a quill though so I had to use eyeliner, hope they don’t mind.” Ben said, shaking pastry crumbs off his jacket. “Always wanted a tattoo.”

 “Yeah, I can believe that,” Chris said, gesturing to Ben’s piercings. “Can’t say the same for most of the people making bookings though.”

Sure enough, the hall was full of students hurriedly scribbling on parchment, each one surrounded by a sea of friends egging them on and grilling them on what design they wanted.

“Do you know what you’ll get?” PJ joined suit.

“Haven’t figured that one out quite yet, but I’ve got some ideas. Come on then, one of you losers will get inked with me, right?” Ben ruffled the hair of the two closest heads, Dan and Phil’s, and grinned to the table at large.

Chris and PJ exchanged a glance.

“Maybe…” PJ said tentatively.

“Maybe isn’t good enough pal, if you want to make use of that half price deal then you need to sign up sharpish before any of these squirts do.” Ben fished a blank roll of parchment out of his bag and tossed it into the middle of the table. “I’ll even lend you my eyeliner. Give it back once you’ve stopped being wimps.”

Ben disappeared back over to the Gryffindor table and the four boys judged each other’s reactions.

“Well?” Chris said after a moment. “Anyone want a tattoo? Ben’s right, if you want one, half price is quite an incentive.”

“The whole day is just going to be them turning away underage students, probably sending half of them straight to the hospital wing to fix whatever haphazard attempts at aging they used.” PJ said with a shake of his head. “If we try and get caught, they’ll know us and know we’re underage so we won’t be able to try again. Better off waiting to see what other people try and if anything works, you know, if we want to get something.”

“I don’t know how much they’re going to care, though. I mean, they obviously don’t think much of the law. Flyering like that is semi-illegal, and any type of advertising is banned at Hogwarts, at least in the mail. It’s not supposed to come into the grounds unless it’s educational.” Chris was examining one of the flyers, reading the small print on the back.

“I don’t know why you care, you’re 17. You can get one without breaking the law.” Phil complained.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to go on my own.”

“You can go with Ben?” PJ suggested.

“True…” Chris said, but he didn’t sound convinced.

“Or are you too much of a wuss?” PJ teased.

“Shut up,” Chris rolled his eyes. “I’m just waiting till December so I can get a matching Basilisk tattoo with my boyfriend.”

“Oh right?” PJ raised an eyebrow. “Where are we getting it?”

“Trouser snake.”

“Gee. I love you and all, but what’s wrong with just a heart with my name in it?” PJ laughed.

“Tacky. Lacks originality. Now, a Basilisk in my pants, that’s a conversation starter.” Chris finished the last of his toast and was about to get up to leave when Professor Dumbledore stood up to address the school. It was impressive how no call to order was needed; with just the action of getting to his feet he had silenced the busy hall.

“Firstly,” Dumbledore said, his tone amiable but sincere. “I would like to apologise for the flyering incident that so rudely interrupted our breakfast. I assure you, our restrictions will be tightened and there will not be a repeat.” He surveyed the sea of faces over his half-moon spectacles. “As I’m sure you are now aware, a tattoo parlour has recently moved to Hogsmede, and it opens next weekend. I would like to take this opportunity to remind you that it is not only ill-advised but also illegal for underage students to attempt to purchase a tattoo by any means of magic or non-magic deception. Visible tattoos, noisy tattoos, and tattoos that are likely to cause disruption to classes in any way are also prohibited here at Hogwarts. While I would not make any attempt to crush your creative expression, I would however advise you to wait until after Hogwarts to get your Flobberworm tattoo.” He sat down promptly, and most of the hall took that as their cue to leave.

“What did he mean, ‘noisy’ tattoos?” Dan asked Phil as they gathered up their bags.

“Huh?”

“Muggle tattoos aren’t noisy. Ever. Enlighten me.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot muggle pictures stayed still all the time.”

“They move?!”

The Hufflepuff vs Ravenclaw match was in the afternoon and as such both PJ and Phil had worn their house scarves to breakfast (mostly in an attempt to rile the other), and now they pulled them tight around their necks as the four stepped out into the frosty air.

“They move, sure, and most of them will have some kind of charm on them. You have to be really skilled to be a tattooist, although it’s a pretty cool job.” Phil explained.

They were making their way down to the greenhouses, Phil having persuaded them to join him in his pruning expedition. Dan had parchment and ink stowed secretively away under his jumper, and he planned to subtly slip the questions from his Herbology homework into conversation in the hope that Phil would be too engrossed by his plants to catch on.

“What kind of charms?” Dan asked.

“Anything, really.” Phil said, distracted. He was searching through his bag for his dragon hide gloves, and clearly his mind was already inside the greenhouse.

“Depends what the tattoo is,” PJ took over. “For example, you could get a map that always showed wherever you were at that time.”

“Or a clock that yelled the time at you at random intervals in a Glaswegian accent.” Chris contributed.

“Or that.” PJ agreed.

“But like, the possibilities are endless,” Dan said, incredulous. “How could you possibly pick something?”

PJ shrugged. “You have to remember that this is the wizarding world, if you really get sick of it you can probably curse it off. But more importantly, magic doesn’t last forever. It’s energy. It disperses over time, and in the case of a tattoo it fades and the charm wears off unless you get it redone. Obviously they’re designed to last a long time, but not quite forever.”

They were inside the greenhouse now and Dan was lost in thought, absent-mindedly fending off some sort of sinister hanging vines that were trying to wind their way around his neck.

“What are the most popular tattoos?” He asked, interrupting whatever conversation Chris and PJ were having. Phil’s head was buried far too deep in compost to be paying any attention.

“For guys it’s dragons. Very macho. Big scary thing that prances around being tough and breathing fire. If someone’s getting aggy at you and you’re crapping your pants barely holding it together, the huge ass dragon on your shoulder will help out by roaring and stuff.” It was clear from Chris’s tone that he wouldn’t be getting a dragon tattoo any time soon.

“I suppose for girls it’s plants,” PJ said thoughtfully. “Trees and vines and roses and stuff constantly winding round down your back, ever blooming and wilting and moving with the sun and glowing in the moonlight and stuff. They’re really pretty, actually. I’d rather have that than a dragon any day.”

“And that’s why you’re my favourite.” Chris said affectionately, slipping an arm around PJ’s waist.

“Could you get something that only shows up in moonlight?” Dan asked suddenly.

“Sure. That’s a classic, but a bit wimpy if you ask me,” Chris winked. “Way to get out of the main thing about getting a tattoo.”

Dan smiled, watching the back of Phil’s head. He could get a tree, perhaps, to symbolize the one he and Phil had carved their names on with moon spells pretty much a year ago now. Or perhaps he could recreate their carving. He could picture it now, on their anniversary, taking Phil out to see the stars and revealing it to him somewhere romantic…

“Ultimate faux pas though,” PJ said warily, and Dan could see his eyes following Dan’s gaze to Phil. “Don’t get anything to do with a relationship, friendship or otherwise. Same as with a celebrity or a band. What if they go rogue and murder someone? You’re stuck with it forever. Not smart.”

“Yeah, of course.” Dan said guiltily.

“I’d love to be a tattooist,” PJ drifted the subject away. “I’d love designing them for people and doing the art. But you have to be so skilled at everything. You never know what they’re going to ask you to do because obviously everyone’s always trying to be original and fancier than everyone else. You can’t afford to mess up, either.”

“It’s funny really,” Chris said, poking a large succulent with a stick and giggling as it sprayed pink pollen everywhere that exploded sporadically into showers of sparks. “Tattoo artists have to have the highest form of education and be really intellectual. They study for way longer than like, a healer. And yet people think they’re no-good low life scum. Frankly, society needs to – Ahh!” Chris jumped backwards, frantically batting at his elbow with his gloves to put out the pink flames that had sprouted from a stray speck of pollen. He cursed under his breath as he surveyed the singed hole in his sleeve that was smoking still at the edges, pulling out his wand to fix it.

“I wouldn’t,” Phil warned, looking up at the commotion. “If you’re at all attached to your arm, you should wait till it cools.”

Chris tutted, rubbing the exposed pink skin gingerly. “How are your pansies?” He asked.

“Not so good,” Phil frowned. “I’m trying to breed them to be resistant to the cold so that we can grow them in this country, but I think I might just be killing them.”

“Oh dear,” Chris tried valiantly to sound concerned, but Phil wasn’t fooled.

“If you’re bored, go try touch the centre of that bush thing over there.” He smirked.

Chris took in the sea of vicious, purple thorns and raised an eyebrow. “I think I’ll just go tickle a sleeping dragon instead.” He muttered.

“Have you ever grown a venomous tentacula yourself?” Dan asked conversationally. “I want one of those in my garden. You’re supposed to use some really weird fertilizers, right?”

Phil straightened up from the flowerbed and eyed Dan shrewdly. “Nice try. I’m not doing your Herbology homework for you.”

Dan sighed dramatically, picking up a bag of compost and dragging it next to Phil so that he could sit down and be helpful at the same time.

“Did you know, McGonagall’s husband died from a tentacula bite.” PJ said absentmindedly, stroking the velvety petals of a particularly beautiful lunar rose.

“Really?” Phil asked, eyes wide.

“Uh huh.”

“How much more McGonagall trivia do you have?” Dan asked with an incredulous laugh.

“Well, I can tell you she was in love with a muggle for many years, but she couldn’t be with him because she knew it would be the end of her career. She worked at the ministry after graduating, that’s where she met her husband. He proposed to her loads of times and eventually she gave in and they lived in Hogsmede together.” PJ said triumphantly.

“Again, how do you know this?” Chris said, frustrated.

“Flitwick told me.”

“Nah, I reckon you’re just madly in love with her. You’ve been stalking her, I bet you have framed pictures next to your signed Minerva McGonagall autobiography.” Dan teased.

“Well, maybe a little,” PJ said, amused. “I mean, she’s one hell of a woman.”

~

The afternoon’s quidditch match was action packed and hair-raisingly close, but it left Dan feeling more nervous than anything. His first ever match was in two weeks’ time, and it was Gryffindor verses Slytherin. Chris had been ‘pretending’ to try and injure Dan all week, and Dan was starting to get the impression that, if the opportunity arose, Chris probably wouldn’t hesitate to actually accidentally push him into the lake.

“The biggest addition to our tactics this year is with our beaters,” Chris was saying. “We’re aiming bludgers exclusively at the seekers. We want the other team to be without a functioning seeker for as much of the match as possible really. The points difference for getting the snitch is so wild that it’s a risk that’s worth taking, I mean, nine times out of ten whoever gets the snitch wins.”

Dan rolled his eyes, and Phil swatted Chris over the head with a rolled up _Daily Prophet_. “You’re such a walnut, Chris. You’re just in a panic because you know you’re going to cry like a baby when Dan beats you.”

“Oi, since when were you on Slytherin’s side?!” Chris protested.

“I’m on Hufflepuff’s side, actually. But primarily I’m on Dan’s side, because I’m a soppy boyfriend.”

Before tensions could rise, PJ span round, plopping himself conveniently in between Chris and the other two. “Hey, anyone want another McGonagall fact?” He said brightly. “She broke a bunch of ribs playing Slytherin in her last ever match, and it was the cup decider. That’s why she’s so passionate about seeing Slytherin get slaughtered. ‘Cos it was a Slytherin foul.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Chris muttered darkly, slipping his arm into PJ’s and wheeling him back onto the path. “I swear, you know more about that woman than you do about me.”


	17. Talons' Tattoos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the five boys take a trip to the newest shop in Hogsmeade.

The walk to Hogsmeade was not enjoyable, despite the buzzing atmosphere caused by the arrival of the tattoo parlour. Dan wrapped his (pink) scarf around as much of his face as he could, but the exposed part soon felt raw and numb. The road to the village was full of students bent double against the bitter wind. More than once, Dan wondered whether they might not have had a better time in the warm common room, but he, like everyone else, was too keen to see the new shop to turn back. He wondered if a wizarding tattoo parlour would look like the muggle ones; bathed in dingy light and filled with the whir of needles from a back room somewhere.

Come to think of it, what did they use for wizarding tattoos? Were they traditional tattoos – with ink and needles – that had charms placed upon them, or was the whole thing done with spellwork? Would it hurt? Dan had only ever seen the outside of the tattoo parlour in Diagon Alley, and he hadn’t given it a second’s thought due to how normal to him the shop looked in comparison to all the other businesses in the Alley.

“Does anyone actually know where it is?” Chris yelled, his voice barely audible above the howling wind.

“Nope,” PJ replied, squinting almost blindly in Chris’s general direction. “I was thinking we’d just, you know, follow everyone else.”

“Yeah, good point. Ben wants us to meet him at Zonko’s, so it can’t be too far from there.”

“Hey, there’s the old apothecary two doors down from Zonko’s. It’s been boarded up for years, I bet it’s that one.” Phil said, and PJ nodded in agreement.

“I never went in there.” He mused.

“Well, that’s why it went out of business then. I used to go in there a lot when I was trying to invent a spell for watering my plants automatically whenever they needed it.”

“Hey Phil, I just realised. You’re actually pretty smart. Why weren’t you in Ravenclaw?” PJ grinned.

“He’s certainly crazy enough.” Chris quipped.

“That’s not even an insult.” PJ pouted. “Ravenclaws are thinkers. We’re creative, and we’re always lost in the clouds of our own little worlds. That’s Phil in a nutshell.”

Phil shook his head with a smile. They were drawing closer to the centre of the village now, and the small cottages seemed to be sheltering them at least a little from the wind. “I’m very happy right where I am, thanks.” He said. “Here’s the question: how the hell did Mr Salazar Slytherin, the original blood purity fanatic, let in a muggleborn?”

Dan’s cheeks, already pink with cold, flushed red. It was a questioned that had been asked of him pretty much incessantly since the day he was sorted. “I’m not the only one ever,” he mumbled. “It’s just really rare. I’ve researched it. Obviously. ‘Cos people go on about it so much. The hat puts your choices above everything else, so sometimes muggleborns get in. Because it’s the choices and actions we take that define us, favourite colour and ice-cream flavour of preference are a bit irrelevant.”

“So did you choose Slytherin?” Phil asked, curious.

“No; at least I don’t think so, but I knew nothing about any of the houses before I arrived. I knew nothing about anything. My head was exploding when I was getting sorted. Maybe I was looking at the Slytherin banners and thinking they were pretty just as the hat got put on or something. I don’t know. I mean, I don’t mind, if it wasn’t for the blood thing I wouldn’t think twice about it. Slytherin suits me. It just doesn’t make sense.”

“Yeah, that is kind of weird.” Phil considered. “Kind of awful for you too, because if anyone is going to be a nob about blood status then they’re probably going to be in Slytherin, as that was Sally’s big thing.”

“Word of advice, Phil,” Dan cringed. “If you’re at all attached to the way your face looks right now, don’t refer to Slytherin as ‘Sally’ next time you’re visiting me in the Slytherin quarters.”

“What about Zar? Salz? Sal-star? Z-dog? Big S?”

“I think it’s best just to stick to Salazar.” Dan sniggered. “But hey, you’re free to make your own decisions in life. I just won’t be standing in between you and the wands of the die-hard Slytherin patriots.”

By now, it was clear to see where the new shop was situated purely by the crowd of shivering students around the entrance craning to get a look. They carried on past the shop to spot Ben’s flaming red hair like blood against the snow.

“Oi, inky,” Chris called. “You nervous?”

“Not even a little,” Ben said cheerfully. “C’mon, they’re so busy I want to make sure I’m not late, even if I have to hex the eager little firsties out of the way.”

With much pushing and shoving, they were finally able to get a glimpse of the shop front. It was a small building, about the size of Puddifoot’s, and had a shabby look to it despite the recent renovations, which suggested it might be deliberate. Two large, bronze talons formed an archway above the door, and a rustic wooden sign had ‘Talons’ Tattoos’ carved into it seemingly with a rock, or certainly a very blunt knife. It wasn’t until they got closer that Dan could see that the seemingly jagged edges to the carving were actually a series of ornate, intricate and more importantly miniscule individual carvings of a vast array of magical beasts and plants, prancing and winding across the rough plank of wood.

“Cool,” he breathed, and the other four nodded in agreement. “What does that mean?” Dan asked, pointing to a sign in the window that read ‘no flash work’.

“It means they don’t have like, a book of designs that you can just walk into the shop and pick from. You have to come knowing what you want, whether that’s a design you’ve found or something you want them to make.” Ben explained.

There was a sound like a tinny owl hoot as they pushed open the door, and warmth washed over them like a very welcome hug. The shop smelled like clean pine and rosemary.

“Well, first appointment I’ve had all morning who’s actually of-age.” The man behind the counter gave a small smile. He was very tall, with a scruffy beard and countless piercings all over his face and ears. He wore a large, jungle green jacket that looked like it might even be dragon hide, but every inch of bare skin was alive with swirling colour.

A snake curled up asleep just below the man’s ear, it’s belly moving ever so slightly as it breathed. Up his neck grew a thick vine of thorny, dark purple climbing roses with leaves that shivered in an imaginary breeze. His hands had been tattooed to look as though they were skinless, with muscles and tendons moving over chalky white bones. It was kind of macabre, and Dan quickly moved his eyes away to avoid feeling nauseous.

“The name’s Sebastian. You must be Ben.” The tattooed man came out from behind the counter to shake Ben’s hand, and Dan wondered how he had known which one was Ben, but then he remembered Ben’s bright hair and piercings and supposed it wasn’t so difficult of an assumption to make, considering how completely au-natural the rest of them were. “You made it through the door, which means the one with the appointment card at least was of age, but you’ve brought quite an entourage with you. I hope you weren’t intending to persuade me to ink your mates too…?”

Ben shook his head. “Nah, but none of them have ever seen a tattoo being done before, and I needed someone to hold my hand. Hands. All four of them.”

“Fair enough,” Sebastian chuckled. His voice was low and soothing, and despite the dark nature of most of his tattoos, his smile was warm. “Shall we go down, then?”

He led the quintet down a set of very steep, rickety wooden stairs into a dingy basement that was much like what Dan would expect a muggle tattoo shop to look like. The main difference however was that the walls were lined floor to ceiling with dusty volumes and spellbooks, and there was a cauldron bubbling on the hearth emitting a sweet vanilla scent.

Sebastian didn’t seem to be much of a talker, and the five students stood in slightly awkward silence at the foot of the stairs while he rooted through a collection of cupboards, gathering supplies.

“Sit,” Sebastian motioned at the reclining leather chair in the centre of the room, and Ben approached somewhat apprehensively, but then flopped himself down easily with a reassuring smile at the other four.

“So, this bat,” Sebastian said, his head buried in a chest. “Did you have any particular characteristics in mind?”

Ben blinked. “How did you know I was getting a bat?”

“Oh yes, sorry. I dabble in Legilimency because of the work I do – so much is lost when a person tries to translate a vision they have in their heads into words, you know? Art never looks quite as good as you imagined, but even more so when you’re translating it from one head to another.” Sebastian clarified.

“So you’re reading my thoughts right now?” Ben asked, a little unsure.

“Some of them, yes.” Sebastian smiled. “I’m not very good. I don’t need to be. I just ask my clients a few questions, to make them think about their vision. Then I can see it. That’s all I need, so that’s all I learnt how to do.”

Dan wondered whether this was true or not, then remembered that, if not, Sebastian could probably tell what he was thinking and know that he was doubting him. Dan tried to focus back on Ben.

“So, you’re thinking now.” Sebastian carried on. “You just want a little bat, sensible really. To make sure you like the idea of tattoos before you get that hippogriff on your left arse cheek.”

“Hey!” Ben said indignantly, but with a laugh. “I did  _not_  think that. It’s going to be a centaur, actually.”

“Ahh, so it is,” Sebastian chuckled. “Make sure you come to me for that one. I don’t think I’ve ever done a centaur before. They’re too close to humans, it’s not all that different from getting a random person’s face tattooed on to your arm. Or, left arse cheek. So. A personality for this bat. You like the idea, but hadn’t thought much about it. So now’s time to think. Also to decide if there’s any areas of your body that it’s not allowed to explore.”

Ben grinned. “Absolutely, categorically not. Batty roams free, wherever he wishes.”

“Even your eyelids?”

“Sure.”

“Gnarly.”

~

It took them another ten minutes of talking to fully refine the design and personality of the small bat that would originate on Ben’s collar bone, but roam free as it wished. Sebastian seemed to be in no particular hurry, despite the crowd outside of students trying to get through the age barrier he had placed on the door. Dan had to admire the level of dedication he put into his work. He took the permanence of tattoos very seriously, and wanted the finished product to be as close to what the client envisioned as physically possible.

The actual spellwork was anticlimactic. Sebastian pressed the tip of his wand to Ben’s clavicle, but from then on no one could see much of what was going on because he leant right forward, concentrating and blocking the view. He seemed to be drawing the tattoo much like muggle tattooists would, just with considerably less pain on the receiving end. Ben winced a couple of times, but afterwards swore he felt nothing more than a light tingling sensation.

When Sebastian was done, everyone crowded round to get a good view while Ben grabbed a dusty mirror eagerly. It looked at first glance to be no more than a black dot about half the size of a sickle, but then, slowly as if waking up, the little bat opened its wings and blinked a couple of times. It took nearly a full minute for the bat to decide to take off, and when it did it flew straight up towards Ben’s hairline, darting in and out of the tendrils of red. It was fast and Ben was struggling to chase it with the mirror, but a huge grin had spread across his face almost immediately.

“He’s perfect.” He said simply, and Sebastian bowed his head.

~

Sebastian slipped the handful of coins Ben had paid him into a leather pouch, but hesitated at the bottom of the stairs. “You’re all of age, or at least, will be soon, right? No one’s coming through that door any time soon. If any of you are considering tattoos, we might as well plan them out now.”

That was all it had taken for the six of them to stay sitting in the gloomy basement for half an hour, avidly bouncing ideas off each other and coming up with beautiful designs and experimental ideas. Sebastian seemed surprised at himself for how quickly he had taken to the boys. He bonded with Ben instantly over their shared desire for traditional muggle body modification even in the wizarding world, and he fell head over heels in love with PJ’s creative visions and neat little drawings. Dan couldn’t blame him. PJ and tattoos went together like butterbeer and cold evenings. Peej liked to tell stories, he liked to draw, and he liked to combine the two and make the stories come alive. While he insisted he’d never have the spellmanship necessary to be a tattooist, Sebastian insisted that he showed promise.

“You have the art skills,” he said earnestly. “And then some. But, more importantly, you have the preciseness. You’re meticulous. Some people make art with big brush strokes and splatters and things that don’t go right the first time but end up looking beautiful, and it’s so great, but it’s no good for tattooing. Many of the best artists in this world would be terrible tattooists. And you’re a Ravenclaw, right? You can’t be bad at charms and stuff. Do what I did, start as an assistant. I did the art and some of the simpler charms, but I got help whenever it was something complex. Just in case. But I kept studying. I’m still studying now. I always want to learn something new, some new trick that no other tattooist will have thought of, you know?”

“Sebastian, can I ask something?” Chris interrupted. He had been looking awe-struck through a volume of photos of Sebastian’s work.

“Call me Seb. Sure.”

“Do you do your own tattoos? If so, how?”

Seb nodded. “Diversion spell. My belly is the only bit of me that’s bare, because it’s easiest to reach. I draw on my belly and then send them to wherever I want them to go. I usually get help with my back, though. With positioning and stuff.”

“What’s the coolest one you have?”

At that, Seb grinned a wide, toothy grin. “I’ll show you.”

He shrugged off the heavy jacket and then pulled off his shirt in one sudden, fluid motion. Phil choked a little by Dan’s side and Dan hit his leg, but privately he agreed. Seb’s chest was incredibly beautiful, and not just due to the chiselled abs and rippling contours. A thick forest crept up one side of his ribcage, through which a whole pack of wolves roamed stealthily, beady eyes twinkling out at the onlookers through the trees. A moon hung a little above the canopy, glowing with what looked a lot like real moonlight. A murmuration of starlings formed endless, weaving, complex patterns in the space just below Seb’s collar bone.

But it wasn’t the front Seb wanted to show them. He turned around to reveal his back, and Dan’s eyes bulged. Standing in the centre of Seb’s back, staring steadily straight at Dan through dark, unblinking eyes stood – well, Dan supposed he would call it a horse, but it wasn’t like any horse he’d ever seen. It was completely fleshless, its black coat clinging to its skeleton, and almost reptilian looking. It was so skeletal in fact that had it not been for the small undulations in its sides Dan might have assumed it was dead. Wings sprouted from each wither; vast, leathery wings that looked like they ought to belong to giant bats. It stood very still amongst all the movement of Seb’s other tattoos, and there was something a little eerie about its gaze that sent chills down Dan’s spine. It looked as though it were seeing right inside of him.

“Which one?” Phil asked by his side, and Dan blinked. To him, only the horse had stood out. He hadn’t even looked at any of the other tattoos, but now he supposed they were all as beautiful as the others.

“In the middle,” Seb said, with the half-smile that slipped so easily onto his lips. “It’s a Thestral.”

Dan turned curious back to the horse, but was surprised to hear Chris laugh. “Oh, very funny. That’s neat, that. I’m sure it’s the most beautiful tattoo the world has ever seen.”

“It is, actually.” Seb said, amused.

Dan frowned. He felt like there was a joke he wasn’t getting.

“Are you being serious?” PJ asked. “I can’t really tell with you. Do you really have a Thestral tattoo?”

Seb nodded. “The most complex spell I’ve ever cast. Because, you know, there isn’t one in a spellbook you can just go use. No one has ever had any need, or want, to recreate Thestral magic. It took a lot of work. Wasn’t exactly a fun adventure, either, but I’m pretty pleased with the outcome.”

“Ok,” Chris sniggered. “I’m sure it looks lovely, and no one will be able to prove you otherwise.”

“Well, a few people.” Seb smiled.

Maybe it was Dan’s imagination, but he was sure Seb’s eyes had darted towards him as he’d spoken. Dan gazed at the Thestral once more. It was a very quiet, gloomy presence on Seb’s back, but it did seem kind of beautiful in a way. There was something about it. It had meaning to it, something ageless, but Dan couldn’t quite figure out what it was. And what about the way the others were reacting? There was no way he was admitting he didn’t know what a Thestral was, but he made a mental note to look it up when they got back so at the very least he could understand the joke.

~

A large group of seventh years had broken up their little basement party and, not really enjoying the cold now that the excitement was over, the five boys decided to call it a day and head back to the castle. Talk of the tattoos they were planning filled the walk home and, although no one would admit it, they were all secretly looking forward to the next chance they’d get to spend time with the mysterious and quiet but endlessly kind-hearted Seb.

“He was just, so cool, you know?” Ben said, and quietly everyone agreed.

One thing was certain, they all wanted tattoos from Talons’ Tattoos, however unwise that decision might be.

 

 

 xxx

 

_**A/N**  this and the chapter before were originally one chapter but it ended up 7k words because I am phan trash so I figured I’d have to cut it into two otherwise I would have been murdered I mean apparently these days anything over 4k is a really long oneshot iN MY DAYFICS WERE LIKE 100K AS STANDARd_

_Anyway_.  _Comment question: what houses are y’all in? do you agree with the houses I picked for these four goons? I’m interested this is Research ok_

 

_Ps u guys are fab and rad and pleas keep being awesome ily <3 honestly peoples' comments are just overwhelming and make me super happy so thank you for taking the time to leave them_

 

 


	18. Healthy Competition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Dan’s first Quidditch match, and he’s up against one of his best friends – Chris, the Gryffindor captain. He’s got two more of the best people by his side however, and Phil helps calm his nerves while PJ stops Chris from ‘accidentally’ pushing Dan off a cliff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a quick little part because I got really excited about a chapter, wrote it, then realised it would skip out a massive chunk of the year that did really need some coverage. This is the coverage. Expect the real chapter next week (it’s one of my favourites yet). Peace (ps this part goes out to Patricia – hope the exam went ok dude!! ur gr8)

The cold, North wind whistled through the forest, slipping in like ice water through the miniscule gaps in Phil’s clothes he didn’t realise he had. The centimetre of exposed skin between his sleeves and his gloves burnt cold, and his nose was red-raw. What few leaves that had decided to hold out through the winter were shivering on their branches. Phil’s feet crunched on the thin layer of frost that sparkled on the forest floor under the light of Dan’s wand.

“I’m going to fall off my broom.” Dan said matter-of-factly.

“I’ve got a spell for that,” Phil said, his teeth chattering. “I’ve been practicing. I’ll stop you and plop you straight back on before anyone even notices. I’ll be watching you the whole match just in case. Promise.”

“What if I crash into the stands?”

“I’ll move them out of the way. Then modify everyone’s memories so they forget.”

“What, the entire school all at once?”

“And the staff.”

“Good.” There was silence for a few more minutes bar their footsteps and the soft slip of winter air through bare branches. “Are we far enough in yet?” Dan asked.

Phil squinted through the trees, straining to pick up the pinpricks of lights in the castle windows. “Not sure,” he said, “too dark. So probably yes, as I can’t see the castle.”

“We can fly low. Probably the only good thing about flying in the winter. No leaves on the trees so you can go right up into the canopy to get a better view.” Dan shifted his broom off his shoulder and mounted it, shuffling forwards to make room for Phil. He was very grateful for Phil’s warm arms around his waist and his hot breath in his hair.

Phil squeezed tight and Dan kicked off gently, raising them a few feet off the ground and starting forwards. After a few near misses, they switched so that Phil was the one holding the light and Dan could focus both hands on keeping them steady. It was harder with two, and harder still trying to go so slowly. The broom wanted to fly light and free and fast, and was clearly not impressed with Dan’s manoeuvring as they worked their way through the trees.

Tomorrow, Dan would play his first ever Quidditch match for Slytherin. To make matters worse, they were up against Gryffindor. The rivalry could not have been more intense, nor the pressure more tangible. And then there was the matter of being pitted against Chris Kendall, one of the warmest candles burning in Dan’s heart. Truth be told, Dan was glad it was Chris as opposed to, say, PJ. If it came to knocking PJ off his broom in order to achieve a victory, Dan really wasn’t sure he’d be able to do it. Chris on the other hand, well. Dan wouldn’t go as far to say he deserved it, but it would be quite a rush to knock that annoying little grin off his face for once, and then wave the snitch in it afterwards.

Chris was a joker. It was their first match, not the final decider of the season, and the banter was mostly light-hearted. Chris cared about Quidditch perhaps more than anything else in the world (except maybe PJ) and had they come up against each other in the final then maybe the threats wouldn’t have been so empty. They were both glad for the way the matches had been drawn this year, even if it did mean Dan’s first match was the one that worried him the most.

“You know,” Phil said as they broke out into the starlight, skimming the tops of the trees with their toes. “Chris checked out a book of poisons from the library this morning. PJ confiscated it before you came down to breakfast. I think he was planning on reading it while staring pointedly at your porridge.”

“That’s sweet of him,” Dan muttered, trying to make out vague black shapes against the purple sky to get his baring. “He was carrying a knife around yesterday. Or it might have been a rubber chicken. I’d turn my back and when I turned back around he’d be hurriedly shoving it back into his robes. You know, as if he’d got it out but I’d turned round too quickly. It was pretty convincing, actually.”

“Just be thankful he didn’t actually break your hand that time on the stairs.”

Dan smiled, leaning back a bit as they levelled out to fly straight and steady. Phil turned his face to rest his head against Dan’s back and gaze out into the night.

“We can’t stay out too long,” Phil murmured. “You need to sleep.”

“I don’t know that I can. This is probably better stress relief.”

“I can knock you out, if you like.” Phil offered.

“I might take you up on that.” Dan chuckled. “You’ll stay with me tonight, right?”

“Of course. What do you take me for?”

“I’m scared.”

“I’m sure Chris is too. Don’t believe his swagger for one minute.”

“He’s done it before though.” Dan sighed. He took one hand off the broom handle to thread his fingers through Phil’s at his stomach.

“He had to do it for the first time though, too. He was scared. I know, I was there. But he didn’t fall off and he didn’t crash into the stands. They won, actually.” Phil rubbed his thumb against the back of Dan’s hand soothingly.

“He’s better than me.”

“I don’t know much about Quidditch, but I don’t know if I believe that. I reckon you’ll give him a run for his money. And he’s had a lot more practice than you. He wasn’t better than you when he played his first game, that’s a promise.”

“Really?”

“Really. I don’t know Quidditch, but I’m not blind enough to miss talent. You’re good at this, Dan. You really are. I know you think you’re not very good at any of this. At magic. At being a wizard and living in this world. But I think your biggest problem is yourself.”

They dipped down into a valley and for a moment the moon was obscured by the black crest of a mountain. The river below them was a ribbon of silver.

“It’s because people are good at things,” Phil carried on, his chin resting on Dan’s shoulder and his words falling gently into Dan’s ear barely a murmur above the quiet hum of the night. “You see people being special. And you can’t do what they do, and so you think you’re not.

“You see someone create incredible things with just the flick of a wand and all you can think is ‘I can’t do that. I’m not as good at that.’ But that’s the thing about magic. It’s all in your head, sort of. It exists just by thinking it up. People who’ve grown up with magic, they just expect it to come to them. To flow through them. Because that’s normal to them. And so it does.

“I think it’s your own belief that you can’t do it that’s stopping it. Because like, in order to make a spell work you have to think very clearly in your head ‘this spell will happen’. Except you’re thinking ‘it probably won’t happen because I’m not good enough’ and so it doesn’t. For you to make your spells work you have to battle that part of your head, and that’s why you find it so difficult. You’re swimming against the tide. Struggling and fighting every step of the way and all you can see is everyone around you floating along with the flow, barely lifting a finger to keep moving and learning and progressing.”

Below them, the river opened suddenly into a loch, smooth and flat and blacker than the night around it; reflecting the sky and creating constellations that rippled in the moonlight.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m talking rubbish.” Phil continued. “But maybe I’m not. Maybe it’s because you’re a muggleborn, you see it as something you don’t have naturally. You feel like everyone’s had a head start so you’ll have to work really hard to catch up. And you think it’s going to be difficult so therefore it is and you’re holding yourself back.

“But Quidditch is different, you see flying as something anyone can do and therefore something you can do and that’s why you’re good at it. Because you’re smart and you’re talented anyway, but with flying you can believe that you are. It’s not something you can learn from a textbook, so you never thought you’d have to try.”

Dan was silent for a moment, watching the river dip in and out of sight as it was covered and uncovered by trees. He wasn’t sure what to think really, only that the world was so, so beautiful at night with the soft hues of blue shadows and matte purple and deep velvet and a thousand shades of grey; and that he loved Phil Lester with all his pounding, burning heart.

~

The changing rooms were heavy with the stench of sweat and tension and apprehension. There was a lot of slapping of shoulders and bundling into each other. Clammy bodies hugged one last time, before the doors were flung open and they filed out down the narrow passageway and onto the pitch.

The roar of the crowd seemed a lot louder from down here. Dan could see Chris on the other side of the pitch, leading his team out with a fist raised in the air in appreciation of the cheers from the scarlet stands.

Flint, in his robes of green, showed his own appreciation by raising a middle finger and leading a booming jeer from the Slytherin supporters. Dan’s stomach twisted itself into knots as he looked up at the heaving, bustling, colourful (and more importantly full) stands. There were a lot of people. A lot of faces. A lot of eyes, many of them probably curious about the new Slytherin seeker. Their names were announced booming across the stadium and he was acutely aware that this was the most people ever to have known his name.

He wondered how many of them were now seeking him out. Daniel Howell? That wasn’t a name they’d ever heard before. Who was he? Dan doubted any of them recognised him. Even walking through the corridors he’d always tried to make himself inconspicuous and unnoticeable. He didn’t want to stand out. But now he was standing out by choice in front of a crowd of thousands. He gulped. Then he mounted his broom. Then a whistle blew, and he was shooting through the air with the wind in his face and a thousand more faces a blur in his peripheral.

This was what he did. This was what he was good at. He’d done this a hundred times before, he just had to ignore the spectators and focus on the game. And then Chris Kendall shot past him making an inappropriate hand gesture and blowing a raspberry and suddenly he knew he was going to be okay.

~

“Gryffindor score! Ten points to Gryffindor!”

Slytherin were twenty points behind, but it was a close match with the lead bouncing back and forth between the two teams. Ben had withstood a brutal assault of shot after shot that had left the Slytherins disbelieving, but then he’d let in a penalty and one of the Gryffindor chasers had dropped the quaffle at a crucial moment. As for Dan, he was circling above in a cautious loop parallel to the Gryffindor seeker. They were watching each other as closely as they were scanning the sky, waiting patiently for a flash of gold against the grey clouds.

Many feet below them, Slytherin scored a sly goal and Ben turned a roll of frustration mid-air. Dan pulled his gaze away from the action. He couldn’t afford to get distracted.

He wondered if Phil was staying true to his word, watching Dan’s every move. Distractions.

The Gryffindor seeker had been circling the same small section of the pitch for a while now, and Dan wondered anxiously if he thought he’d seen something. Should he drift over? Or was this a decoy? Maybe the other seeker had spotted the snitch in Dan’s section of the pitch but knew that he’d never make it in time if he made a dart for it, and so was trying to lure Dan away. Or maybe Dan was being paranoid, maybe the Gryffindor seeker too was getting distracted and spending longer than he’d meant to on that particular circuit. Dan hovered for a moment, performing a slow and steady scan over the whole pitch from grass to clouds.

Captain Flint didn’t have much faith in Dan’s abilities. The Gryffindor seeker was something of a prodigy, and as such Dan had been instructed just to tail him the second he started to worry. Flint’s tactics were not subtle. Ideally, Dan would knock the other seeker out of the sky long before he’d got anywhere near the snitch, but Dan had flat out refused. He wasn’t really big enough to be knocking anyone off their broom, let alone someone as fast and agile as a seeker.

Dan dropped down a few feet. The snitch wasn’t in the upper quarter of the pitch – there were two seekers up there, one of them would have seen it by now. He could afford to go looking, as long as he didn’t let it get past him on its way up. He’d have to take it slow. If it got above Dan it would be easy pickings for the other seeker.

He narrowly avoided a bludger as it whistled past him en-route to the Hufflepuff stands and then was stopped and deflected by- who did that? Was there a teacher getting paid to bounce back any projectiles and keep the spectators safe? Or was there a spell keeping the action confined to the parameters of the pitch? Dan wasn’t sure, but he did know he was getting distracted again.

He was now almost within the bubble that contained the main body of the activity, and was forced to shimmy aside to make way for a bundle of chasers hurtling through the sky as they tussled for the red ball. He wondered if Chris was one of them, but stopped himself from looking.

If the snitch was in amongst all this it was going to be near impossible to find, but Dan couldn’t afford to wait for it to come to him as Gryffindor were building on their lead.

And then suddenly there was a streak of red in the corner of his eye and he was wheeling around mid-air and rocketing violently forwards in the same direction as the Gryffindor seeker. He could see the snitch now, and it couldn’t have been further from either of them. He was fighting to keep his eyes open against the stinging wind. Had this been a cartoon his cheeks would be flapping furiously, and it certainly felt like his skin was being ripped from his face. Dan wasn’t sure he’d ever flown this fast in his life.

He was closer. The Gryffindor had taken a risk hoping Dan wouldn’t see him in time, and it wasn’t going to pay off. The glint of gold was streaking away from him almost touching the grass in the bottom corner of the pitch, but he was gaining on it fast. He was going to get it. They were going to win.

But of course the two seekers hadn’t gone unnoticed. The match had been completely abandoned, all the players converging on that one corner of the pitch – the Gryffindors to try and block Dan and the Slytherins to try and stop them.

Flapping robes and clumsy bundling. Dan had lost sight of the other seeker completely. He weaved desperately through the throng of bodies. Players were crashing into their own team mates in all the confusion and panic.

He ducked under a chaser and rolled over just in time to avoid a Slytherin beater swinging his bat wildly into thin air. A pair of scarlet clad feet nearly kicked him in the head and now he’d lost the snitch too, still shooting frantically forwards.

He could see the Gryffindor seeker now. He’d manage to get through the scrum faster than Dan and now they were nearly neck and neck. Dan had a feeling neither of them could see the snitch, but to pull away now would be fatal should it be just around the corner.

Sunlight reflecting for a split second off something shiny. With all his might, Dan heaved his broom handle upwards and shot vertically towards the clouds. There was the snitch, its tiny wings fluttering so fast they were a blur, and there was his outstretched hand closing over the cold metal.

The roar that went up from the crowd was deafening. Dan had to admit, as far as Quidditch finales went that one was pretty good.

~

Dan lounged drunkenly across Phil’s lap, fighting off a bout of hiccups. The party was all but done, the floor sticky and the air thick with floating streamers. Phil was pulling green glitter from Dan’s hair and grinning stupidly.

“Everyone knows who you are now.”

“I know,” Dan mumbled. “It’s terrifying.”

“You say that, but you had the biggest beam on your face when they were carrying you round the stands. You were like the sun. Sun child. I wish I’d got a picture. I want to bottle up that smile and keep it forever.”

“Well, I guess it’s not so bad. This fame malarkey.” Dan said modestly, and Chris threw a cube of cheese at him.

Chris was still sulking in one corner of the Slytherin common room. He’d been in the Gryffindor tower most of the evening, commiserating with his teammates and his house, but PJ had finally dragged him down to the party. Admittedly, it was a bit strange. While Dan was one of his best friends, Chris was also the captain of the team the celebrators had beaten.

“Beginners luck.” He muttered darkly. “You didn’t even see the snitch yourself. You just got lucky because you happened to be slightly closer. We so nearly had you.”

“Sure.” Dan grinned widely. He rolled himself off Phil’s lap and crawled across the floor to nuzzle his face into Chris’s side and wrap his arms around the Gryffindor. “You still love me though, right? Even though I totally beat your ass?”

Chris rolled his eyes. “I put up with you. Love is a bit strong.”

“It’s your own fault, really. You forced me to try out. I wouldn’t have done any of this without you.” Dan said, his voice muffled by the fabric of Chris’s muddy Quidditch robes.

Chris smiled a little and returned the hug. “And you did me proud. Who’d have thought it, eh? Weirdo loser fourth year. Star of the match. You’re not completely useless after all.”

“Thanks.”

“Any time.”

PJ, feeling a little left out, launched himself at the pair and enveloped them both in a bear hug, joined almost instantaneously by Phil.

“Since we’re getting sentimental,” PJ said, ruffling three heads of hair and giving Chris’s head a pat. “Now’s probably a good time to mention you’re sitting in a puddle of sick.”


	19. April Ghouls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogwarts is in chaos, and getting through the day without a trip to the hospital wing is almost unheard of. Dan is first to strike come April Fools’ Day, but Phil retaliates mercilessly with all his 6th year magical might. Meanwhile PJ and Chris are locked in a prank battle to the death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is ridiculous

It was a day not like other days at Hogwarts. To an outsider, the shift was only subtle. It might take a while to notice it. But when a whole class jumps at the sound of a dropped textbook, the tension becomes all too tangible. It was the way teachers were glancing warily around each corner and mouthing silent spells before entering each classroom. The way students inspected their quills every time they picked them up to write, almost as if they were expecting it to turn into-

“A _turkey_? Really, Chris? It’s not even a turkey feather!”

April Fools’ Day was a day in which students and teachers alike feared for their lives.

“We haven’t even had breakfast yet and he’s already got me four times.” PJ said wearily as he and Phil headed down the stairs towards the Great Hall.

“Four? That’s impressive. Toby had his bed turned into an inflatable paddling pool, but that’s all we’ve had so far.” Phil smirked at the memory.

“Honestly, I forgot what day it was. If I’d known I would have sent Chris back to his own bloody dormitory last night.”

A Gryffindor girl pushed past them sporting a large red beak and squawking uncontrollably, and they jumped to the side to make way for what appeared to be a giant, threatening marshmallow bouncing down the stairs and emitting a high pitched wail.

Dan was waiting for them at the foot of the staircase with a mischievous grin on his face, and Phil sighed resignedly.

“Hey, you. Happy April Fools’ Day I guess. Are you gonna get me now, or can I digest my breakfast first?”

“We can have breakfast.” Dan said cheerfully, tilting his neck to peck Phil on the cheek.

“You guys are going to have to help me,” PJ said as they made their way into the usually boisterous but especially cacophonous Great Hall and took their seats. “I need to launch a serious counter attack on Chris, and I haven’t given it any thought at all. Totally unprepared for this battle, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to go down without a fight.”

“Where is he?” Dan asked, buttering a slice of toast that crumbled into fine sand as he tried to put it into his mouth.

“He went off to the Gryffindor common room to set up some big pranks with his pals, because obviously he’s involved in that. He said he’ll come join us, though.”

“Well, that gives us time,” Phil said thoughtfully. “Something with a PJ spin. Apparently every good book of hexes has been checked out of the library, and most of the human transfiguration too. We can use our imagination. Madam Pomfrey’s drafted in a couple of her retired healer friends in preparation; they’ve temporarily extended the hospital wing. You can be thankful that Chris is pretty good. You’re probably not going to end up with a botched elephant trunk on your forehead like poor Charlie.”

To their left, a girl’s nose began to grow at an alarming rate and she sighed heavily, creating a small wind storm.

“It needs to be proper revenge. You know how he loves the limelight, I’m thinking something he can’t shake off that will ensure he’s centre of attention whether he likes it or not.” PJ said, stroking his chin. “Maybe a portable rainbow, or a flock of songbirds, I could do that. Oh, Dan, I wouldn’t. That’s not actually muesli, it’s dried insects.”

Just then, they were interrupted by the arrival of the post owls, the following buzz of noise punctuated by the odd scream as students opened something particularly unpleasant.

PJ was just unfolding his copy of _The Prophet_ (today’s headline: Fudge resigns as Minister of Magic to be replaced by Paul the Puffskein) when he was interrupted by a sharp intake of breath and an expletive from his side.

“Phil?” He asked, alarmed.

Phil was frozen to the spot, staring eyes bulging at the envelope on the table in front of him. It was bright crimson in colour and sealed with a ribbon, and it seemed to be smoking slightly.

A gleeful grin spread across PJ’s face. “You better open it,” he said, with a glance at Dan across the table. “It’ll be worse if you don’t.”

Phil glared daggers at Dan, who was feigning innocent curiosity. He took a deep, steadying breath, before slipping a finger under the ribbon.

There was a sound like a whip crack and suddenly

“ **I LIKE YOUR BUTT**.”

boomed throughout the Great Hall. The howler exploded as the words echoed off the walls, the Hall suddenly silent.

“Wow,” PJ said, exhaling air through his nose. “Kudos, to you, Dan. That’s got to be the loudest howler Hogwarts has ever played host to.”

(As Professor McGonagall later informed them, Dan’s howler didn’t quite make it to number one, coming a close second to a particularly loud message Professor Flitwick had received from his mother back when they were at school together. He had, allegedly, accidentally (and illegally) given his baby sister large butterfly wings and been completely unable to reverse it, so had caught the first train back to Hogwarts before his mother could find the cupboard he’d locked her in.)

~

“Look, are you in or not?” Chris said impatiently, pushing his dripping wet hair out of his eyes. With a little help from Phil, PJ had conjured up a personal raincloud for Chris. It poured steadily and occasionally sprouted lightning, giving Chris a small electric shock that made him yelp. After the incident at breakfast where the benches that flanked the four house tables had flung their contents several feet into the air, no one seemed too keen to help Chris get rid of it. As such he had resigned himself to regularly replenishing a water repellent charm over his robes. Right now, he was trying to persuade the other three to help him turn the third floor corridor into an overlarge bouncy castle.

Dan shrugged. “I don’t know why you’re looking at me, I’m a fourth year and a slightly below average one at least.”

“Can you do multi-coloured bubbles?”

“Well, I guess but-”

“You’re perfect. Peej?”

“If we get caught, I’m going to say you had me under the imperious curse.”

“Excellent.” Chris beamed. “Phil?”

“Can we have slightly sinister fairground music?”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

“I’ll do it.”

~

Chris flew through the air with a whoop, bundling into PJ and sending them toppling. Phil stood in a corner massaging his nose after a nasty brush-in with a biting teacup, but he looked pleased. The bouncy castle had turned out better than even Chris could have planned. Two seventh years had cast some kind of antigravity over the corridor that meant each bounce sent students almost to the ceiling, and the agile could spin ten somersaults before touching back down again.

Dan sat in between Phil’s knees, moving up and down as the floor bulged underneath him, lazily sending bubbles into the air. Phil had tried to teach him how to make them sing, but Dan’s spellwork was a shabby to say the least and it came out more like a scream. Still, what was April Fools’ Day without a little dissonance. Dan quite liked the effect. It was certainly unnerving.

He sighed heavily as his left foot turned into a potato. He lifted his wand to try undo the damage, but Phil stopped him.

“Dan,” Phil reminded him. “That’s human transfiguration. Takes a little concentration.”

“If you don’t want me to accidentally maim myself, you should probably stop transfiguring my limbs.” Dan pointed out.

“Do you want me to fix it for you?”

“Yes please.”

 “…”

“Phil,”

“Mmm?”

“You just baked it.”

“Oh, sorry. Did you want cheese?”

~

Dan wasn’t sure whether to trust the thin rope bridge strung out across the gaping chasm, but he couldn’t see any other way to get to the other end of the corridor and he was already running late to Charms after meeting a flock of Ever-Bashing Boomerangs on the stairs. He took a few tentative steps and then broke into a nervous jog. He knew he couldn’t really fall far, but the illusion was very realistic. If he looked really closely, Dan was sure he could see pointed shark fins in the black water that churned at the bottom of the canyon.

The bridge wobbled and Dan looked up to see Ben and Carrie coming towards them, arguing over the price of a screaming yo-yo.

“Dan!” Ben yelled, grabbing the rails of the bridge and sending it swinging precariously.

“Thanks,” Dan muttered, clinging to the sides as he edged along towards the middle. “How’re you holding up?” He called.

“Chipper, ta. Couldn’t be jollier.” Indeed, the grin that was plastered across Ben’s face was one of elation. This was his favourite kind of day. He liked a little chaos. “Would you like to buy some belch powder?”

Dan considered for a moment before shaking his head. He’d already spent a lot of his money on stink pellets and the like in an attempt to prank Phil. At this rate he wouldn’t have enough left to buy his mum a birthday present, and he would have to explain that he’d chosen to make someone burp for a few hours instead.

“Have you seen Sophie?” Dan asked. “She’s got a hex that makes your nose hair grow and so I’m trying to avoid her.”

They had met in the middle and were now carefully manoeuvring around each other, the bridge only really big enough for single file.

“That’s not all she’s got,” Ben said, cursing as he lost his footing and nearly fell through a rotten plank. “I just picked up Carrie from the hospital wing.”

Dan raised an eyebrow questioningly and Carrie sighed.

“She turned my boobs into marshmallows,” she said wearily. “I had to beat everyone off with a broomstick. They wanted to know if you could actually eat them.”

“I think she’s just jealous,” Ben said with a wink, and Dan shook his head disapprovingly.

“Were you not tempted to try yourself?” He asked.

“Of course I was tempted, but it really wasn’t worth it. I mean, what if Madam Pomfrey had turned them back and there’d been a huge bite mark missing?!” Carrie shuddered at the thought, and Dan sniggered. He wondered how many more hexes Sophie had been preparing for today, and made a note to take whatever measures necessary to not find out.

“We are now all late, however,” Ben said as he tussled with some pixies that had just flown around the corner. “So we’ll be bidding you a fond farewell, Danny boy, and good luck on your travels.”

Dan made it to the end of the bridge without any further incident and was about to turn the corner when he heard a scream from the other end and jumped. Dan wondered what it was, but didn’t have time to turn back and find out. Perhaps Carrie had finally noticed that Ben had turned her hair pin into a slug.

~

There was a hole in Professor Binns’ classroom floor that went all the way down to the lowest dungeon. Most of the toilets were regurgitating, and in Dan’s transfiguration lesson all the students’ quills had leapt up into the air to form a very terrifying bird raining ink all over the classroom. Then, lunch had been interrupted by a herd of goats and Peeves had ridden a camel through the corridors for half an hour before anyone had been able to catch him. In short, the castle was in chaos, and the teachers were intervening only to stop any serious harm coming to the students.

“Dan, how are you, and Phil too?” Chris asked, sitting down beside them looking exhausted but ultimately cheerful.

“Not so bad, thanks,” Phil said, with a glance at Dan. “Can’t say the same for Dan, though. He’s been running into glass doors all afternoon. Very unfortunate.”

Dan glowered silently at Phil, most of his face black and blue with bruises. He’d got Phil back with a couple of dung bombs and a canary cream, but Phil was an unstoppable force of revenge after the howler at breakfast, and his magical ability was both more advanced and more creative than Dan’s.

“You need a detection charm, or maybe some smoke,” Chris advised. “Or I could lend you a stick to poke?”

“Thanks, Chris. I can usually spot them now and push Phil into them. Punch him in the face too, if I get the chance.” Dan said darkly.

“That’s boring, Dan. Get him back while you can.” Chris urged. “I’ve got a crate full of puffskeins you can have when I’m done? I’m putting them in PJ’s bed, reckon that will be fun.”

“Chris,” Phil said suddenly. “Are you talking in rhyme?”

“Yes.” Chris said shortly. “PJ’s very good, you know. Now I really need to go. Puffskeins to plant and banter to bant.”

Dan watched him go with a wistful sigh. Now, that was a battle. He and Phil, on the other hand, well. It was more like a slow and lazy slaughter. He really did need to come up with something better with which to knock Phil back a few pegs.

~

It had been two days since Umbridge had become headmistress, and the swell of mutiny could be tasted in the air. It seemed like too much of a coincidence that she’d been called away on ‘Ministry business’ on this day of all days. Dan had a strong feeling that she probably wouldn’t have made it through the day in the castle with all her limbs. After all, a full crate of ‘indoor’ fireworks (seemingly on steroids) had been set off to welcome her into the role two days before the day it was probably intended for.

The corridor outside her office was overrun with ghouls and Dan had a sneaking suspicion some of the more elaborate pranks were being pulled so as to practice and perfect them for her return. The students certainly seemed to be pulling out all the stops this year. There wasn’t a square meter of the castle without some sort of modification, and so many clumsy spells had been cast that they were starting to glitch and interfere with each other.

In the astronomy tower a lightning storm had started raining marshmallows, while the flock of headless chickens had lost all their other limbs as well and were just rolling at high speeds through the corridors squawking loudly and spraying feathers.

The portable lake that had been set up in the dungeons had been inhabited by Hogwarts’ very own Loch Ness Monster, but as the incantation on the lake had begun to fade she had become beached, flopping about on the flagstones angrily.

The suits of armour in one corridor had been enchanted to line dance, and then to sing, and then to sing in Latin, and finally to hug every unwitting student or faculty member that walked past. But all the spells had left them confused in a corner, mumbling broken Latin, convulsing slightly, and launching themselves all at once on any poor souls that tried to walk past in a crash of metal that was proving pretty hazardous.

As for Chris and PJ, their battle had reached new heights.

“Hey Phil look, that guy’s got a melon for a head.” Dan chuckled.

Phil lowered his book to look up, quill between his teeth, and squinted. “Dan. I think that’s PJ,” he whispered. “Look, he’s coming over.” Phil tried to keep a straight face as the melon bobbed its way towards them, a mop of curly hair resting absurdly atop the shiny shell.

Dan saved the place in his textbook and tossed it loosely into his bag. This was far more interesting than History of Magic. “Hey, what’s up?” he smiled innocently as melon-PJ sidled into their little corner of armchairs. “Are you okay? You don’t look yourself.”

Yeah,” Phil agreed. “You’re looking a bit pale.”

“A bit waxy in the skin.” Dan said, the corner of his mouth twitching.

If a melon could look dejected, this one certainly did. PJ gestured with his hands at where his mouth should be, throwing them up in the air and slumping down beside them, his melon drooping.

“Here, let me get that for you.” Phil chuckled.

With many a snigger, Phil carved a crude mouth in the melon with his wand. As an afterthought, he added a few pointy teeth. That was about all Dan could take and he dissolved into giggles, only to be silenced by a stony-meloned look from PJ.

Tentatively, PJ opened and closed his melon-mouth. “Wow,” he said, his voice surprisingly normal. “I didn’t expect that to work. Because I can see fine without any eyes.”

“Just a stab in the dark here,” Phil said, still chortling (Dan groaned). “Were you being a bit melon-headed?”

“Yes.” PJ said dryly (despite the moist, succulent nature appearance of the melon mouth. Really, it looked very refreshing.) “I’ve been trying to fix it for fifteen minutes now, only I couldn’t get the spell out non-verbally. It’s not something I’ve practiced a lot, I’ll admit. Melon vanishing. And I’m hungry, too.”

“I think everyone’s getting a bit exhausted now,” Phil said as PJ began to shrink his melon, the juicy flesh retracting and remoulding into a much more PJ-ish shape. “Like, we’re all out of lessons now. Dinner’s in half an hour, it could get _really_ messy now. But so many people are in the hospital wing, and we’ve been running away from those horrible three-legged soup bowls all day. I just don’t have it in me anymore. I want to go to bed, but it’s an alligator at the moment.” He chewed the end of his quill absentmindedly, stopping only to extinguish it as it burst into flames in his mouth.

“They’ve made a safe space in one of the classrooms,” PJ said. Most of the melon was gone, but what was left was almost more disturbing. His skin was just a little bit too pale and yellow, and his features ever so slightly smoothed and flattened. Dan was grateful to see his long, crooked nose growing steadily outwards and his cheeks regaining some pink. “The teachers, that is,” PJ continued. “They’ve just put a bucket load of protective charms over it so no magic can be done inside at all. I don’t think people would try, though. I mean, this is the most hilarious, wild day of the year. We’ll be talking about it for the next 365 days. You wouldn’t want to miss out on it unless you were really truly done. You wouldn’t be in there unless you really couldn’t take any more. It’s supposed to be fun, after all. No one here is quite awful enough to cross that line.”

They were sitting in one of the only corners of the Hufflepuff common room that wasn’t currently consumed by sickly sweet smelling pink foam. A group of first years played in it gleefully, sculpting fortresses and engaging in violent foam wars. First years were, of course, an easy target for pranks, but mostly the students of Hogwarts were conscientious enough not to take advantage of this. Their peers, however, were attacked mercilessly, and gave as good as they got. The most serious injuries usually occurred between seventh years, with one group of friends rumoured to have been carted off to St Mungo’s earlier that afternoon.

The problem was that once students had reached Newt level, they had started to discover their own strengths and specialities. One person’s transfiguration was no match for another’s, but they in turn could cast a charm that the other simply could not shift. Dan was poignantly aware that Phil was probably going easy on him. Today had highlighted their age gap, and he was feeling low.

It wasn’t just Phil’s years that made him a better wizard than Dan. He was generally incredibly bright, one of the top in his year, while Dan floundered around at the bottom of his (despite having retaken a year). It came easily to Phil. He never had to revise all that much, and the magic seemed ready and willing to flow through him just as he wanted it to. Dan on the other hand had no such luck. He had to pour every ounce of concentration he had into performing even the simplest of spells, and all the while he felt as if he were battling with it. He knew he shouldn’t, of course. He knew he should try to let it flow through him rather than force it out of him. But that was a battle in itself – a battle with his own mind.

And then there were Chris and PJ. They, like Phil, never had much trouble with school. Right now they were engaged in bizarre sort of duel on either side of the foam pit, launching household items at each other at lightning speeds.

“We should probably go down to dinner soon,” PJ said, narrowly missing a collision with a washing machine and vanishing it with a pop before it hit an alarmed bystander. “Today has really taken it out of me. I’m starving.”

A whole roll of carpet flapped menacingly towards Chris, and he cursed as he tried to vanish it only to find it twisting into a set of curtains instead. “Kay.” He said through gritted teeth, firing a volley of pots and pans at PJ’s head. “Yay,” he added, then slapped his head angrily. PJ’s rhyming enchantment was showing no signs of wearing off any time soon.

Dan suspected there wouldn’t be a lot of students dining in the Great Hall tonight. A perhaps worryingly large percentage were in no fit shape to go to dinner, and many more would probably be too apprehensive of what fate might befall them if they did.

Phil lay his head on Dan’s lap and closed his eyes. Dan stroked his hair gently (quietly filling it with worms at the same time) and watched Chris and PJ battle it out, now fencing with a pair of swordfish. It was quite a day. After all the trauma they had been through since Umbridge had arrived, the students needed this time to unwind and really let loose.

Although frankly, Dan thought as he spat out the cockroach cluster he’d accidentally been snacking on, he’d be pretty relieved when it was all over.

~

It was easy to see which teachers were most disliked by the students on a day of wild pranking. Professor Flitwick had been on the ceiling for a matter of seconds before someone had got him down, but Snape had been chased by an array of inanimate objects emitting loud noises all day. He was a highly skilled wizard and could get rid of them as quickly as any one student could conjure them up, but one man was no match for the sheer number of teenagers setting tails on him. Worst of all he couldn’t even hand out detentions to the culprits, because the kettles and stools were jumping out at him from broom cupboards and desk drawers with no students in sight.

As he swept into the Great Hall, his billowing robes bristling with the anger so clearly plastered across his face, he cast a shield charm around his chair and sat down heavily, glaring down the length of the staff table as if daring someone to comment on the menagerie jumping up and down a few feet behind him.

Dan, Phil and PJ sat down at the Gryffindor table with Chris. They were pretty sure that if anyone had a finale prank planned it would be the Gryffindors, and if so it was probably safer to be by their sides than in the line of fire.

The food that appeared in the great golden dishes was, thankfully, untampered with, and it seemed that everyone was too hungry to remedy this. They tucked in, wolfing down their food in a hurry to eat it before it turned into something else.

Phil pulled another worm from his hair and dropped it in Dan’s plate. “You’re the worst.” He said conversationally, a slight flick of his wand sending Dan’s plate spinning.

Too tired to counter the spell, Dan took a stab-and-hope approach, which worked pretty well until his fork melted.

“Look, Phil,” he sighed. “I’m just. I’m so tired. All I want is a potato. Please? For me?”

A potato hit him square between the eyes and he shrugged, catching it and shoving it in his mouth with his hands.

~

Desert was taking a long time coming, and Dan was very aware of the way Chris kept glancing impatiently up at the ceiling. Was it going to rain ice-cream? He probably wouldn’t mind that. Or cakes. As long as they weren’t heavy enough to knock someone out.

A redhead at one end of the Gryffindor table coughed, and then someone in the middle, and then a tall Ravenclaw. All at once, everyone stopped eating. That was a signal if ever there was one. The students of Hogwarts collectively held their breath.

And then, with a loud CRACK, a huge, unflattering effigy of Dolores Umbridge was hanging from the ceiling, a rope around her neck, and most of the Gryffindor table had jumped up and were handing out wooden bats yelling “Piñata!!!”

It took a solid ten minutes of frenzied whacking before she finally burst open, spraying the students with hundreds upon thousands of brightly coloured sweets and chocolates. Phil caught chocolate egg the size of his face and Dan could have sworn he saw a whole toffee pudding implant itself on a Hufflepuff’s head.

It was quite an ending to quite a day. The teachers, however, were talking nervously amongst themselves. Very aware that, while lax rules throughout the day was practically a Hogwarts tradition, if they didn’t do anything and word got back to Umbridge they might find themselves a nice row of cells in Azkaban with their names on them.

McGonagall was the only teacher who didn’t seem in the least bit worried. As Dan filled his face with Fizzing Whizzbees that sent him floating several feet in the air and filled his stomach with a delicious lightness, she pulled Professor Sprout (who’d been in the process of getting worriedly to her feet and drawing her wand) back into her seat and forcibly plopped a Cauldron Cake into her mouth.

To Dan’s left, Ben had shoved a whole fistful of Pepper Imps into his mouth and was chasing down a group of first years, breathing fire and roaring realistically. Dan smiled and bent down to scoop up some exploding bonbons. He was scrutinizing a fudge fly when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“You ready?” Chris asked in an undertone. (“You steady?”)

Dan nodded quickly, abandoning his sweet haul and following Chris as he ducked down under the table. In the semi darkness they squatted and drew their wands.

“Dan,” Chris said gently. “That’s a liquorice wand.” (“They’re nice but I’m not too fond.”)

“Oh yeah,” Dan said, fumbling for his real one. He pulled two mice and a pack of exploding cards out of his robes before he found it.

“Okay,” Chris breathed. “We’re only going to get one shot at this so we need to time it perfectly. We have to just hope Ben and Sophie haven’t forgotten (furflectly).” (The spell was finally starting to fade, the results enough to raise a few eyebrows at Chris’s broken speech.)

Dan shook his head. “They were both doing something perfectly interesting and abandoned it to go talk to Phil and Peej. I reckon they’re just better actors than you give them credit for.”

Dan and Chris were watching the other four deep in conversation as they snacked on coconut ice. In the process of scratching her head, Sophie gave them a thumbs up behind her back. Intently yet quietly, the pranksters got to work.

First, Chris sent a silent nudge spell to Charlie (who had finally had the trunk removed, but had missed most of the day.) He jumped a little at the invisible tap on the shoulder, then turned to Carrie and whispered in her ear. Her brown eyes bulged wide as he explained the plan, and under the table a wide grin spread across Dan’s face.

Carrie and Charlie were approaching the other students now, ushering them away and spreading the word. The pranksters knew they would have to act fast before their victims noticed, but they also needed to get everyone out of the way. Sophie and Ben would be working too now, casting a very subtle charm that created an artificial hum and buzz of chatter to fill any suspicious silences left by the hastily retreating students, and blurring the edges of PJ and Phil’s visions with something not dissimilar to a confundus charm.

Dan had borrowed a whole box of Pixie Puffs from the kitchens an hour earlier when he and Chris had finished scheming their plan, and now he tipped the contents onto the floor and started muttering under his breath. He was really going to have to master non-verbal spells if he was ever to take up pranking full time.

Also, he decided as he transfigured puff number six, he would have to learn how to mass transfigure small objects.

Chris two had brought some supplies for their scheme. He was setting up a box Dr Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks and was directing a flock of white doves into the upper corner of the room.

Dan wiped his clammy palms on his robes. He was nervous, and Chris had noticed.

“Hey,” Chris said quietly. “You don’t really have to do anything. Like, you don’t have to say anything or do a dance or anything. When it happens. I know everyone will be watching. That’s the whole point. But literally all you have to do is stand there, you couldn’t fuck it up if you tried. You won’t embarrass yourself.”

“I know but like, centre of attention. Not my thing. I’m not confident enough to be the ‘class joker,’ you know?” Dan fixed his hair nervously.

“I’ll do all the joking for the both of us. No sweat. Now let’s sort out some suits.”

~

The fireworks were launched into the sky, rocketing off the walls and raining sparks on the students. White doves flew in heart formations and a thousand pink streamers fell from the ceiling. With a great rumble, Phil and PJ were forcibly lifted fifteen feet into the air on what appeared to be-

“Is that a giant cake?!”

An arch hung heavy with pink climbing roses plopped up in front of them and jangling bells chimed noisily. Then Dan and Chris appeared from under their table, looking dapper in dress robes and bow ties, and were walking arm in arm up the aisle stairs that led to the top of the cake (Dan’s face burning hot enough to fry a whole cow).  A rainbow boomed and two pink hearts made out of sparks, one on each side of the hall.

_D+P 4eva_

_C+P 5eva (that means more than 4eva)_

Finally, to put the icing on their giant wedding cake, the head of the Umbridge piñata was raised on a spike in the middle of the frosting.

The whole hall cheered and whooped and jeered, and Phil and PJ buried their heads in shame as their boyfriends approached them with open arms and grins of triumph.

“Happy April Fools’ Day, dearest.” Dan sniggered to Phil, glowing with smugness.

“Oh and, just to clarify,” Chris said, pushing a curl fondly away from PJ’s eyes. “We don’t actually want to marry you. Ew, gross.”


	20. Of Serpents and Sharks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lazy afternoon like any other. In which Dan embarks on a journey he doesn't yet know exists.

Light seeped through the gap in the curtains and stretched out in a line across the floor, dust particles dancing in the sunbeam. The rest of the dormitory was shadowed mahogany. The heavy tapestries were silent, their occupants having long since vacated the gilt frames to traverse the castle with social visits and aimless wanders. The beds were all empty save one, the hangings fluttering in the breeze from an open window at the southern end of the long room.

Phil lay across Dan’s chest, white sheets tangled around his knees and cascading onto the floor. One hand was twisted in Dan’s hair, the other squashed under his right cheek. His own dark hair brushed Dan’s chin. Soft breaths of hot air lifted the loose tendrils and let them fall again.

Dan’s brown hair was tightly curled and sticking to his face. His eyelashes fanned out in a perfect dark arc and his lips moved ever so slightly as he dreamt.

From outside, the gleeful shrieks of a violent quidditch game drifted lazily in through the window with the humid air. A mosquito hummed near Phil’s calf, but decided not to disturb the slumbering lovers. The sun blinked as a wisp of cloud scurried past, and Phil scratched his right ankle with his left big toe.

The doors burst open with a crash. A mop of brown hair was followed by curls and a loud whoop. Abruptly, the slumbering lovers were sprawled across the wooden floor and slumbering no more.

“Good morning!” Chris exclaimed cheerfully.

“Morning?!” PJ pulled Dan to his feet and patted his back briskly. “It’s two-thirty in the afternoon. You boys should be ashamed of yourself.”

“We were up til four playing gobstones with you.” Dan said sulkily, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

“Which by rights means you should have been up at the very least by twelve, which would have given you a healthy eight hours sleep.” PJ held out a shirt and Dan took it without looking and pulled it on backwards over his head.

“We’re having a picnic.” Chris announced. “Down by the lake so we can throw grass at all the fifth years bricking it for their OWLs.”

Phil yawned, scratching his head. “Did you make us a packed lunch, Peej?” He asked.

PJ held up a large wicker hamper with a grin and Phil shook his head, turning to fumble through his underwear drawer.

~

“It’s quite terrifying, really,” PJ mused, munching on a peanut butter sandwich. “That we only have one year left.”

“Well that’s nice for you.” Dan reached for a carrot stick with a frown.

“You’re our excuse to come back and visit, so please don’t get expelled or anything.” PJ transformed Dan’s carrot into an actual stick and Dan spat out the chewed bark with a grunt of frustration.

“Yeah, try not to fail _all_ of your OWLs.” Phil nudged his sandwich another inch from Dan’s spit ball.

“Dan’ll be fine, he’s not trying to make it as an experimental Herbologist when he leaves.” Chris teased.

Phil shrugged, floating a grape into his mouth and sending another shooting towards PJ. “At least I’ll have some nice flowers to send you in St Mungo’s.”

Chris’s grin stretched across his face. “You could probably send me something more terrifying than the vampires I’ll be vanquishing. I learnt long ago not to mess with magical plants.”

“Yeah, I think that was in third year when a Tentacula bit your bum and you cried.”

Chris threw a punch at PJ which PJ avoided deftly, pulling Chris into a headlock and tussling on the grass.

“So what about you, Dan?” PJ said breathlessly as he emerged triumphantly a brief moment later. “Do you have a life plan yet?”

“Jesus. I haven’t even done my OWLs.” Dan shuddered.

“Yeah, but you need to think about it when you’re picking your NEWTs and stuff.”

Dan shook his head slowly. “I really have no idea. I’m not particularly good at anything.”

“You’re good at Quidditch,” Chris offered.

Dan snorted. “Not professional level good. I’m not athletic enough.”

“That’s true,” Phil was plucking strands of grass and weaving them mid-air into a braid, ignoring PJ and Chris’s antics. “You’re a weedy scrap of a boy.”

Dan rolled his eyes fondly, laying back to nestle his head in Phil’s lap. “Anyway, if Umbridge is still here I probably will fail. She’ll have snaked her way into all the other subjects by then. Well, maybe not Transfiguration. I’d love to see her take on McGonagall.”

“Everyone would, there’d be nothing left of her.” Chris beamed at the thought, taking a chocolate biscuit from PJ’s plate.

Phil tutted as he tried to find a position whereby he could still reach his sketchbook without disturbing Dan’s heavy head, before settling on resting the cool pages on Dan’s face.

Dan faked a sneeze and earned a sharp rap on the nose. He rolled over so that Phil could lean against his head and continue his drawing of some sort of horned plant with worrying looking spiky tendrils. The pencil grating over the paper against his ear made Dan wince, but he was too warm and lethargic to move. The June sun beat down with a heat that made his skin tingle, but there was just enough breeze to prevent it from being truly hot. He yawned and received another clout from Phil.

Dan had avoided PJ’s question, but not because he hadn’t thought about it. The future stretched out long and daunting in Dan’s mind. The three sixth years were planning their careers, while Dan was just getting to grips with school-life. The thought of two more years on his own terrified Dan. All of his closest friends were sixth years, it would be like his first two years all over again. Despite the heat, Dan shivered. He hadn’t told anyone yet, but somehow he didn’t think he’d be staying for NEWTs.

But what would he do? Without those qualifications his job prospects were bleak. He wasn’t naturally talented enough to do anything impressive with just five years of study, and despite Chris’s suggestion he really didn’t see himself playing Quidditch full time.

Most terrifying of all, though Dan was loathe to admit it, was the thought of being without Phil.

Phil had nurtured Dan like one of his plants, watering him with love and encouragement, and Dan had blossomed. Phil wasn’t just his boyfriend, he was his emotional backbone, and Dan wouldn’t truly know how reliant he was on that until it was gone. He traced flower petals on Phil’s knee and Phil cringed at the tickle.

He was his own person, Dan argued. Phil hadn’t changed who he was, just helped him come blinking out into the open. Now he was there, there was no reason he’d go back into that shell of insecurity and self-loathing just because Phil had gone. He’d manage on his own. He’d make new friends. Because even if he left school at the same time as Phil, he wouldn’t necessarily be following him. Phil’s career would take him all around the world. Dan would probably end up working in a shop.

Opposite, PJ had transfigured strawberries into fleshy aeroplanes and was flying them into Chris’s mouth. No one had talked about the imminent split of the fantastic foursome, but it hung over them like a gathering raincloud.

PJ was going to create. Art or music or what, no one was quite sure, least of all PJ. But no one had any doubt that he would find success in whatever he did. He was fascinating just to watch or to talk to. His mind could set your own alight. With his strange assortment of muggle clothes and eccentric manner, he would have no trouble finding his place in the world – it was anywhere and everywhere.

Chris, ever the Gryffindor stereotype, was in search of adventure. He wanted vampires and dragons and a healthy dose of fame. And if that failed, he had Quidditch to fall back on.

The three were the picture of success; talented, smart, well-liked by all. They had prospects, Dan had a mobile phone that wouldn’t work on school grounds and seven pairs of black skinny jeans. He stared gloomily at the cupcakes, not even noticing when one turned into a very small lizard and scuttled off into the bushes.

“When I’m famous,” Chris posed to PJ. “Will you write the book about my dastardly deeds? I’d do it myself only that seems like a lot of effort.”

“I’ll write a play, then you can play yourself.”

“Even better.”

“Hopefully your head will expand so much it explodes, then I don’t have to look at it ever again.”

“You say the sweetest things, Peejy. My unchecked ego could probably do some serious damage. I’m glad to have you around.” As he spoke, Chris fired his entire plate of sandwich crusts at PJ as if from a machine gun.

PJ shook the crumbs from his shirt and surveyed the bready mess. “Right. I’ll just leave you two to clear this up then, me and this melon head are going to get inked.”

“Oh yeah,” Phil said, surprised. “I’d completely forgotten you were doing that today.”

“PJ just wants an excuse to see Seb again.” Chris got reluctantly to his feet, packing up the hamper with a vague wave of his wand. Dan watched enviously.

“Well are you losers coming or what?” Chris asked, gesturing with his hands.

With a sigh, Phil snapped his sketchbook shut and stowed it in his bag, rolling Dan off his lap and onto the grass.

“Come on then. Let’s go watch you get stupid things drawn on you that you’ll regret for the rest of your lives.”

~

Butterflies dipped languidly in and out of the grass and bees thrummed in the hedgerows. The walk to Hogsmeade was a lazy one. They sniggered at the fifth years sweating over textbooks and sighed enviously at the first years screaming as they splashed in the shallows of the lake hoping to attract the giant squid.

Dan wasn’t really supposed to be leaving the grounds outside of scheduled weekends, but he got the impression most of the teachers were so used to seeing him with the three sixth years that they assumed he was in their year.

The village was quiet, as everyone had exams of some sort, even if they weren’t as stressful as OWLs and NEWTs. The boys’ pace quickened as they neared the shabby shopfront. Dan allowed himself a moment to take in his favourite features; the bronze talons, the carved sign… They’d been inside Talons’ Tattoos a grand total of three times now, but the experience still warranted a certain reverence.

“My homies,” Seb’s voice was warm as he caught them all with fist bumps. The piercings in his ears jangled faintly as he moved. “You ready to make your mothers hate me?”

“I’m pretty sure my mother would fancy you,” Chris shook his head sadly. “How do you feel about cougars?”

“I’m a fan, for sure. And I’m glad you think I’m relatively youthful. I had a couple of girls earlier who thought I was forty. They were getting matching friendship cats. It was gross.”

“How old are you?” Dan asked curiously.

“Now, isn’t that a question.” Seb smiled wryly. “I’m twenty-four. And you’ll be sixteen soon, right?”

Dan nodded, not asking how Seb knew.

“So, little over a year before I’m doing your full sleeve, right?”

Dan smiled from one corner of his mouth and followed Seb down the narrow stairs.

~

Seb had been burning incense. The basement was smoky and heavy with a sweet yet earthy scent, like woodland flowers, but it wasn’t choking.

PJ was getting music notes that, with the right spell, he could rearrange to his heart’s content creating little melodies that would sing themselves out to the world if he desired. It wasn’t something Seb had done before, and they had worked together to refine the enchantment. PJ had been itching to finally get it done after working on it for so long.

Chris went first. Seb’s face was creased with concentration as he drew out the worryingly lifelike shark on Chris’s left thigh. Its teeth were stretched into a leering grin and its gills shivered as it swam slowly and ominously in and out of the dips in Chris’s skin.

PJ got seven notes and a treble clef on the inside of his wrist. Tentatively yet excitedly he began to talk to them under his breath, changing their octave and making them grow sweeping tails or hollow out entirely as he changed their length. Soon, he would be able to dance them between his fingers like running water.

Twinkle twinkle little star drifted softly and a little disjointedly from PJ’s hand, and then again with more gusto. A huge smile was fixed across his face, and the other boys knew they wouldn’t be able to get much conversation out of him for at least a few days.

“Next we’ll put some guitar strings running up your arm, yeah?” Seb suggested with a fond smile, and PJ nodded eagerly.

“Do you think,” he paused a little uncertainly. “Do you think it would be possible to make like, a chalk board? So you could draw with your wand and rub it out?”

Seb frowned. “Honestly I’ve no idea. It would be complicated. But I don’t see why we couldn’t do some research.”

PJ beamed and Dan marvelled at a brain that could so easily spout such a fountain of ideas and creativity.

“It’ll make a change from putting a thousand snakes and eagles and badgers and lions on spotty teens.” Seb continued, already turning to his bookshelf.

“I think Dan should get a Slytherin tattoo. He’s very proud of his house.” Chris quipped.

Dan scowled at him. “I don’t hate it. I wouldn’t play Quidditch for them if I hated them. But I would have probably had a better Hogwarts experience in another house. Literally, any other.”

Seb paused his search, turning to look at Dan, a curious expression in his eyes. “You’re muggleborn, yeah?” He asked. “Slytherin won’t accept muggleborns easily. It was Salazar’s big thing. I assumed you’d chosen.”

Dan nodded. “I know, I must have done by accident. You’ve no idea how many times I’ve tried to figure it out. I don’t really know what I was thinking. I was scared. I didn’t know anything about the houses. I just tried to clear my head so that the sorting hat could do it properly. Maybe I thought the word Slytherin at just the wrong moment.”

Seb shook his head slowly. “The sorting hat is a very powerful magical object. It doesn’t make mistakes. Maybe one of your parents has some magic in them, or a squib, perhaps?”

“No, neither of them knew magic existed at all. If my dad had ever accidentally turned a kettle into a dog or something he’d have probably brought it up by now. Asked me to teach him or something.” Dan had considered this already, even asked his parents a few times. He was sure they weren’t lying.

Seb surveyed him, and Dan wondered if he was using his leglimency and listening to his thoughts. “Have you spoken to a teacher? I think you should. I’ve never heard of anything like that before. Sally loved blood purity almost as much as he loved himself.”

The cauldron on the hearth over boiled suddenly, hissing as the liquid fell down onto the fire and spewing pink bubbles into the room. Seb cursed as he caught it with his wand and lifted it high into the air away from the flames until the froth had calmed down.

“Don’t get yourself down though. Slytherin’s not so bad. I was one, and look how cool I am.” Seb winked, and for some reason Dan was filled with a warmth of reassurance.

Seb was right. He was cool, and Dan looked up to him. Knowing that they were in the same house filled Dan with just a touch of pride, and he glanced smugly at the other boys. They may have their heroes and scholars and philanthropists, but Dan had Seb – the mysterious, beautiful, charming tattooist with magic and creativity and talent to his toes.

The huge orange sun was just starting to eclipse the mountains on the horizon. They had been in the shop all afternoon, and the walk home was buzzing with excited chatter as they flaunted their new tattoos, except for Dan, who was quiet with contemplation and lagging just behind the other three.

As they reached the castle gates, Phil dropped back a few paces.

“Anything up?” He asked.

“Nah.” Dan offered Phil a reassuring smile. “Just thinking about what Seb said. I think I will ask a teacher. I just want to know why, you know? It’s been so long that I stopped asking myself, but it’s all come back now.”

In the bush beside them a tiny mouse darted out of the branches and back under cover, for what purpose Dan couldn’t say.

“You’re in Slytherin because you belong there, for whatever reason.” Phil said quietly, not that the other two were paying any attention to them. “For all the stick we give you, the character traits aren’t bad ones. It’s just the stigma. No one takes it seriously.”

“But what I said in the shop – about being happier in another house – I keep thinking how true it is. The hat’s supposed to put you in the house that will help you thrive. Slytherin nearly broke me.”

Phil slipped his hand into Dan’s, rubbing his thumb over the smooth skin on the back of Dan’s hand. “You’re only fourth year. Who knows what will happen. Maybe it knew you’d find some cool cats to get you through the first bit,” Phil stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth and Dan rolled his eyes. “You’re on the Quidditch team, after all. I mean, you wouldn’t have made it onto any of the other teams. We’re all too good.” He continued, avoiding a swat from Dan. “You’re a late bloomer. Now that you’ve found your feet you’ll be able to climb the mountain.”

Dan smiled gratefully at his boyfriend. It wasn’t that he felt he didn’t fit in, just that if he’d known anything about the house before arriving at Hogwarts he would never have chosen it. And, although it was four years ago now, he was pretty sure he hadn’t.

The tall spires of the castle were silhouetted against the setting sun. An owl hooted sleepily somewhere to their right and two second years nearly ran into Dan as they chased each other across the grounds. He was in Slytherin, although he didn’t know why, and for now, at least, he was happy.

 

 


	21. Shadowbeasts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who can tell what goes on in the shadows of a forest thick with trees and beasts and nighttime misdeeds?

The winged horses were flying together in swooping circles right at the far edge of the forest. Moonlight glinted off their slick, emancipated hides. They were darker than the purple night. Dan watched as, without any obvious signal, they dipped back down under the shadow of the trees.

So the tattoo on Seb’s back belonged to a real animal, a thestral as he’d called it. Dan had forgotten all about it. Seeing them in person, Dan understood a little better why Seb had called it his favourite. And he’d used thestral magic, somehow? Clearly, it allowed him to choose who the tattoo was visible to. He’d shown it to Dan. Or maybe it was a Slytherin thing? Dan couldn’t think of anything else they had in common.

Still deep in thought, Dan sat back on his mattress, curled up and fell quickly back asleep. By the morning, he had forgotten the strange creatures of the night.

~

“It’s true!” Chris cried, bursting into the Ravenclaw common room with glee pouring off every inch of his body. “Umbridge is gone, maybe for good. Well, she’s still here in the hospital wing. But Arnie says she’s completely lost it. Be carted off to St. Mungo’s in no time.”

“But what the hell happened?” PJ laid his book down in his lap, wonder in his eyes as Chris ran a victory lap of the airy room, high-fiving as he went.

“Arnie says she went in the forest for some reason. Probably decided it was time to put some order to whatever madness goes on in there. Very unorthodox practices, I’m sure. She came out a few hours later without a wand and screaming. His chess club were having a midnight tournament at the edge of the forest. They picked her up and took her to the hospital wing.” Chris completed his circuit and slumped down blissfully in the spare armchair.

“What did she meet in the forest?” Dan wondered, his Potions revision forgotten.

“She was spouting gibberish all the way to the castle. Centaurs and giants and giant spiders and evil forest children and vines that ate people and Dumbledore, apparently.”

“Dumbledore was in the forest?!”

“Nah, like he set it all up to get her or something. I don’t know. She’s crazy. I mean, in shock.”

The whole common room was listening to their conversation. One girl had stopped so dead in taking a paperback from the bookshelf that it had fallen to the floor with an outraged th

ud.

“I heard it was fifth years, not Dumbledore.” Phil sat forwards eagerly. “No one thought it was actually real, though. The rumour was that they persuaded her to go in - said there was some terrible misconduct going on, I guess.”

“Bloody genius. Why didn’t we think of that?” Chris nodded his head approvingly.

“Two of them took her in,” a first year who’d been listening to their conversation piped up, blinking in surprise at her own voice. “I saw. I was… never mind.” She carried on, a little braver. “But they took her in and came out without her about half an hour later. I guess they just got in deep enough and ran away.”

PJ let out a low whistle. “That’s some balls right there. If I find out who they are I will personally bake them at least four cakes. Did they get into trouble?”

The first year shrugged.

“If they’ve got detentions or anything we should crash them.”

Chris nodded in agreement. “The whole school would probably come. Well, except the Inquisitorial Squibs.”

“I guess that’s disbanded now, huh.” PJ said, a grin spreading across his face. He lay his head back on the top of the armchair, looking up at the blue and bronze silks that hung down from the star-painted ceiling. A true sense of serenity came over a person when in their own house.

“What about all the educational decrees?” Dan asked, frowning. “They’re legislation – they exist with or without her.”

“Maybe so, but there’s not a single teacher in this school that will enforce them if she goes.” Phil said, satisfied. He took up his quill and resumed his doodle. “Oh, and by the way Dan, you really don’t want to be putting bdellium in a sneezing solution.”

“Really?” Dan blinked. “That was the only one I was sure of.”

Phil shook his head. “With that madness you only need 2 drachms of red myrtle and you’ve got belch powder.”

~

Transfiguration had gone from being one of Dan’s weakest subjects to his strongest, thanks to Phil. McGonagall had noticed the improvement, and always saved Dan a small smile. The written exam had gone well, although Dan could pick out at least three questions he’d definitely got wrong, and the practical so far had gone without a hitch (McGonagall hadn’t noticed that his teapot (which had previously been a large snail) was suspiciously slimy, and had vanished it without bothering to touch it).

“Epoximise.” Dan said firmly. The two marbles snapped together, fusing with a satisfying cling.

Professor McGonagall picked them up and gave them a good tug, but their embrace was firm. She nodded curtly, making a note on her parchment.

“Very good, Mr Howell, that will be all. Your confidence in spell casting has bloomed. If you keep up this level of dedication to your studies next year, I predict excellent OWL results.”

“Thank you very much. Professor?” Dan said suddenly.

“Yes?” McGonagall raised an eyebrow.

“Can I ask you something completely unrelated, if you have a minute?”

“You were very efficient with your exam. I have three.”

“It’s a bit silly. Just something that’s been bugging me a while,” Dan paused, chewing his lower lip. McGonagall waited quietly for him to continue. “It’s about how the sorting hat, works,” Dan said carefully. “Like, what factors it uses to decide your house. It’s just, I’m muggleborn. There aren’t a lot of muggleborn Slytherins. The only other one I know is in our house because he chose it.” Dan wished he hadn’t started speaking, this really wasn’t the time, but it was too late to back out now. And if he didn’t ask before the summer he’d have a whole six weeks to agonise over it. When else would he speak to a teacher, now lessons were over? “I’ve thought about it for a long time but I really can’t think of any one thing that makes me so suited to Slytherin that Salazar would want me even with my blood status. I fit, definitely, but I’m not the epitome of all things Slytherin. I’m a comfortable mid ground. I was just wondering if there was a way to find out, you know, maybe ask the hat? I’ve spent five years here now. If I leave without ever figuring it out it will bug me to my grave.”

McGonagall looked at Dan long and hard, her expression unreadable. Dan squirmed a little under her gaze. He was being stupid.

“I believe, and this may surprise you, that I will be able to answer your question without consulting the sorting hat, who is currently settling down for his long summer nap. However, I will need to make some enquiries before offering an answer to your riddle. It’s certainly not something I can go into while Harriet Jenkins waits ever more nervously outside. I assume you will be catching the express home next week?”

Dan nodded, adrenaline shivering through his veins.

“In which case, I shall have to write to you over the summer. Was there anything else?”

“No,” Dan shook his head, hurriedly gathering his things. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Professor McGonagall nodded as he left, but behind her eyes she was somewhere else entirely and deep in contemplation.

~

Over the exam period the Ravenclaw tower had become the social hub for Dan and his three friends, as they no longer had to worry about all the various passwords to get into each other’s houses. To enter the Ravenclaw common room one must answer a riddle asked by the large, eagle shaped door knocker, but for the last three weeks the heavy door had been propped open near constantly with a robust, dusty Arithmancy volume. The students looked out for each other, and the last thing someone needed after an eight hour study session in the library was to have to answer a riddle just to get to bed. Even when the book was removed at night, there would always be someone inside to answer a knock. Ravenclaws didn’t sleep. Perhaps they were vampires, or perhaps they’d got too caught up in their creating or studying or debating to realise that it was four in the morning and their eyes were starting to burn.

This time, at two, Dan and Phil were let in by a girl with blue paint on her hands who immediately cursed and set about getting it off the door handle.

“You’re not even in this house.” She muttered as they slipped past her and up the stairs.

Chris was wrapped around PJ’s lanky frame like ivy. There was no way that position could be comfortable. Dan shook them gently to wake them, pressing a finger to his lips as they opened their bleary eyes.

“Ben’s throwing an end of year party,” Dan whispered, ducking his head down so they could hear. “Right now, because advance notice is for losers, he says.”

“Where?” PJ yawned, unsticking Chris’s arm from around his neck.

“Forest. He said we’ll find it. But he couldn’t meet everyone in the castle and all go at once. Way too obvious.”

“Open invite?” PJ said, blinking a few times to get his eyes to focus in the dark.

Dan nodded. “But get them to wait five minutes before coming out.”

The night air was refreshingly cool. They ran, heads down, to the treeline; where they stopped to check that no one had seen. There was one NEWT exam left to be sat tomorrow, but it was in the afternoon and a few students were always dragged away the moment exams were over to avoid the holiday traffic. Tonight was the best night for a party, and even those who weren’t explicitly invited had waited up, watching and trading rumours. Just a few feet in front of them Dan could see shadowy figures moving deeper into the forest.

They were following tiny, floating orbs of blue light – will o’ the wisps, only visible to those looking to find what was at the end of their trail. The wisps were not bright enough to see from the castle, but at this close proximity they created a clear path through the trees. With ever growing anticipation, the four boys made their way into the night.

~

It was a clearing that, like most of the mysterious forest, no one seemed to be able to recall ever visiting before. Fairy lights danced under the canopy and a number of floating lanterns cast a yellow glow that filled the open space with warmth. There was not, at least at this early stage, a wild party raging amongst the trees. The atmosphere was relaxed and friendly and ultimately euphoric with the end of exams and promise of summer. Every illuminated face hosted a wide beam of content (although that might have been something to do with the huge kegs of butterbeer lining one edge of the clearing), and laughter was the loudest music.

There were no benches or tables, and the boys joined a group of their friends on the dry, springy forest floor. Lots of students had taken off their shoes and, as most were in their pyjamas, it had the air of a very large forest slumber party.

Carrie pulled Dan into a warm hug as he sat down next to her, summoning a butterbeer and pressing it into his hands. PJ was showing Sophie (who’d just arrived with a group of Ravenclaw girls) the latest little melody he’d taught his tattoo to sing, and Phil and Charlie were laying back on the moss picking out constellations in the sky. Chris lay his head in Dan’s lap, closing his eyes.

“We’re still going to Norway in the summer, yeah?”

Dan nodded, then remembered Chris couldn’t see. “’Course. God knows how I’ll afford it, though. I haven’t mentioned it to my parents yet.”

“Like we’ve said a million times, don’t worry about it. Have you told them yet, though? I mean, you are pretty young.”

“Shut up. You went all over the place with Peej last year.”

“But my parents are chillax, yours are muggles. They have no idea what the wizarding world is like, I can imagine that’s pretty scary.”

Chris, for all his fooling around, could be very astute. Dan patted his head fondly. “I’m sure they’ll come around. I’m going with you three. You’re all older and know everything there is to know about everything magic. If I was on my own they probably wouldn’t let me, but they like you guys.”

“Your dad met me for all of five minutes.”

“You complimented his fishing jacket, though. He’ll trust you with my life.”

Chris smirked, sitting back up. “You’ve got to have something to look forward to in the summer when you’re too young to use magic. Otherwise you’re stuck, you know. If your parents can’t take you to see your friends. We’re too spread out. Well, I guess you know how to use muggle transport. And you have a broom. But it would be one hell of a journey on your own to hang out with say, Charlie in Ireland. With muggle school all your friends live near you, right? So it really is a holiday – all you have to do all day is hang out with your friends and be lazy teenagers and annoy your parents. But when you don’t have a single friend within fifty miles for six weeks, that sucks. I nearly got expelled during summer of second year. I used magic. Not with my wand, but like, I knew what I was doing. That’s how I got off. I didn’t cast any spells and I was still young, I could say it was an accident, you know? It just happened. But I could have stopped it.”

“What did you do?” Dan asked, curious.

Chris yawned, wriggling to get comfortable as he lay back and narrowly avoiding Dan’s rib with an elbow. “I was so bored. I couldn’t play with any of the kids who lived near me because I wouldn’t know what to talk about. Like they’d have talked about things I didn’t know, you know? They’d have figured out something was up eventually. I’d have let something slip.” They watched Ben juggle some sticks lit with purple fire at both ends. The crowd cheered as he pulled off a particularly impressive spin. “But I wanted to make friends so bad.” Chris carried on. “I’d go to the park and hide up a tree and watch thirteen year olds try their first cigarette under the slide. Then one time they all got into the big basket swing and wouldn’t let any of the kids have a go. So I snapped the rope. I was bitter, what can I say. That time I didn’t get caught though, that could have happened naturally – obviously they knew because I still had the trace on me, but when they turned up no damage was done so they didn’t bother following it up. But the next day I melted the metal on the slide with them all under it. I was pretty impressed with that. Like, I didn’t know what was going to happen. I could just feel that something _was_ , you get me? No one was hurt, don’t worry, but we were the only magical family in the area. It didn’t take them long to find me.”

“How was no one hurt?” Dan asked, alarmed. “Molten metal is pretty hard-core.”

“I dunno, I guess it wasn’t hot. It didn’t stick to them or anything, it was just liquid. So many memories got wiped that day. My dad knew full well it wasn’t an accident, he nearly killed me. I wasn’t allowed my broom the whole rest of the holidays.”

Dan shuddered. “Please come see me. Like, every day. And take me places. You can all apparate, there’s no excuse.”

“You have my word, young whippet.” Chris promised.

By now, the congregation had doubled in size and the sleepiness was starting to wear off, perhaps with help from the vast array of carbonated beverages that seemed to have grown from the trees themselves. Music was playing from a hollow stump and a few people were dancing. It was a happy kind of gloom. There were goodbyes, but they were softened with ‘I’ll see you again soon’ and ‘just wait til next year’. It was the end of an era. For some, this would be their last party at Hogwarts.

The soft, yellow light was the main feature that captivated Dan. There was something about it, a hazy, languid, tranquil quality. It was impossible to be tense or unhappy when it fell about your shoulders. Dan wondered whether it was actually enchanted, or whether it was just the atmosphere of the party that filled the clear night with its own light.

At three, Chris and Ben let off a volley of fireworks that surely caught the attention of the teachers patrolling the corridors at night and at four, as the sun was just beginning tint the edges of the sky, a seventh year cranked up the music and called everyone to the dancefloor for a slow dance.

The sun was well and truly about to rise. A colony of bats had made quite a stir as they swept through the party picking up moths and bugs that had been attracted to the lights, and at one point Dan was sure he could see a centaur watching from the shadows. He was warm and happy and cuddled between Phil and PJ under a very large and fluffy blanket that PJ had conjured up. Exams were over and, now all his friends were of age, this would probably be the best summer of his life. There wasn’t much that could dampen his spirits on this warm, lazy, yellow summer night.

~

The packing up and setting off phase was always calamitous. It was amazing how far a sock could travel in the course of a year. Belongings had scattered themselves far and wide and no one could even remember who they’d leant that book/pack of cards/self-chilling pint glass to anymore. No matter how long you spent packing, you’d always spend the train ride home remembering things you’d forgotten.

Dan was sure his trunk had closed without any brute force when he’d left home in September, but now, even with an extra bag already packed on his bed, he was straining just to get the sides to touch.

He left with the rest of the Slytherin boys. He would find his friends outside, the atmosphere in the castle was far too frantic to even consider going against the flow of students to reach the Hufflepuff quarters.

Ben found him on the steps and PJ joined them as they stopped to bid one final farewell to the imposing castle. Chris and Phil hailed them soon after and Ben went charging after a girl with blue hair to pull her into a hug.

They turned the corner and joined the throng of students milling around the carriages and slowly dividing themselves up. Dan stopped dead suddenly and snapped his fingers emphatically.

“I knew I’d seen them before!” He said excitedly. “I always paid so little attention I never realised they had wings. Or that they’re so skinny.”

He approached the closest thestral but stopped a foot away, turning impishly to Phil. “Can I pet it? Why is it no one ever pets them? Are they dangerous? I’m gonna pet it.”

“Dan…” Phil said slowly.

“I can’t believe I’ve spent the last four years thinking they were regular horses,” Dan carried on, taking a step closer and admiring the tall beast. Despite the macabre appearance, it was proud and graceful and definitely beautiful. The coat, although it clung worryingly to the creature’s skeleton, was glossy and smooth – almost scaly. The face was long and narrow. It looked back at Dan through huge, black eyes that were quiet with intelligence and perhaps a certain sadness. All of a sudden, Dan felt as though he should lower his voice. Behind him, Phil had still not responded. Dan turned.

“Seb’s tattoo,” he said, a little uncertainly and gesturing at the thetral. “The one you couldn’t see. It’s one of these, right? A thestral?”

The three faces that stared back at him were frozen and pale. Slowly, Phil nodded.

Dan’s brow was furrowed with consternation. What was wrong with the creatures? They couldn’t be dangerous if the students were allowed to get so close to them without any warning, and no one else seemed to be paying them the slightest bit of attention. Determinedly, Dan raised a hand and brushed the back of his knuckles gently down the thestral’s neck. It whickered softly, and Dan smiled triumphantly. He turned back round, raising an eyebrow.

“What am I missing?” He asked defiantly.

Phil walked up to Dan and took his hand, leading him gently away from the carriage. “We can’t see them, Dan. Just like we can’t see the tattoos. Do you know much about them?”

Dan shook his head. “Seb’s tattoo was the first time I heard the name. I didn’t know these were thestrals. I never really looked at them. Why can’t you see them?”

He looked at the three boys, expecting Chris or PJ to contribute, but they were both looking away. Phil took Dan’s arms in his and faced him, his voice lowered. His expression was sincere and Dan held himself tense.

“The magic he cast,” Phil began quietly. “So that you, and I suppose he, could see it, was impressive because it’s not magic anyone other than a thestral would want to use.” Phil paused, his eyes wide with – pity? “Dan, you can only see a thestral if you’ve witnessed death.”

Ice ran cold and inexorably from Dan’s cheeks down his spine to his toes and spreading out into every peripheral. He understood now the hush that had come over him while interacting with the beast. It was the quiet, respectful reverence of a funeral.

“But,” he said after a silence, his voice small. “I’ve never seen anyone die.”

No one had an answer to the question he hadn’t asked. In front of him, the thestrals stood tall and solid and clear as the summer’s sky and mountain peaks.


	22. Nerds Take Norway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan's first holiday outside of the UK is something a little special

It perhaps was the most beautiful country Dan had ever seen. Mountains dropped away into dazzlingly blue lakes and thick, green forests carpeted anything that wasn’t rock or water. There were very few houses, and those that there were often had grass rooves and were built from timber and stone so that they seemed to be a part of the country and did not look unseemly. The only interruption to the breath-taking earth that spanned below were the roads: smooth and inky black and winding through the fjords. Dan had never driven a car in his life, but he imagined those roads would glide like ice beneath the rubber wheels.

PJ was casting a reflection charm that allowed them to fly just below the clouds without being seen. He led the way with Chris, Dan and Phil following just behind them. It had taken a while to convince Phil that, with enough practice, he could take Norway by broom, and Dan was glad. Sure they could have apparated to each location, but even from the tallest mountain the view would be nothing on this.

In the morning they had met at Dan’s house to pick him up and offer his parents once last hug of reassurance. They had taken a portkey to Kristiansand and from there had apparated to a quaint little wizarding settlement buried deep within one of the sprawling forests. The main tavern was in a cave, from the outside a black gash in the side of the mountain but inside a warm, bubbling and surprisingly open space full of travellers and locals alike.

They’d wandered the village and surrounding forests and stayed a night in the inn, then strapped their cases to their brooms and set off. Now, as they were passing a particularly impressive glacial river, PJ led them down the sheer side of a mountain.

“You know,” he shouted over the rushing wind. “The lakes are as deep as the mountains are tall. A drop like this just carries on straight down.”

They were travelling fast and close to the rocky wall to reduce the chances of being seen, and Dan could only imagine how white Phil’s knuckles were as he gripped his broom handle. Even PJ was looking a bit peaky as they pulled up from their dive and skimmed the trees looking for a gap to land in. They touched down on the mossy floor and collected themselves.

“You alright?” Dan murmured to Phil as they shouldered their brooms and gathered their cases.

Phil nodded, pale. “My legs are jelly. Why brooms? Why not, like, armchairs? I feel like they’d have a much steadier pace. My butt wouldn’t be so numb, either.”

Dan grinned. In front of them, Chris had bewitched the cases to float behind them and was waiting patiently.

“We’ve got a bit of a walk,” he said as they set off. “The muggles hike in the woods a lot, it wasn’t safe to get any closer.”

“You don’t think they’ll notice the cases?” Dan raised an eyebrow.

“PJ’s sending out a detection spell so we’ll know if anyone’s ahead.” Chris clarified. “It’s fine when we’re walking but the brooms are too fast for it to be accurate. And obviously it can’t work for apparition. We can put the cases down if someone comes.”

“And they won’t think it’s weird that we’re dragging wheeled cases through a forest?” Dan queried. “It’s not like there are any roads over here, we clearly haven’t just come from our car.”

Chris frowned. “I didn’t realise there was muggle etiquette for suitcases.”

“It’s not etiquette, it’s practicality. But you’ll find that out pretty quickly when you try wheel one of these over this.” Dan smirked.

“Well what should I have bought?” Chris said, annoyed. “The wheels seemed like a pretty good idea to me.”

“For flat ground, sure,” Dan tried to keep the laughter out of his voice. “For terrain like this I reckon rucksacks would have been a better idea. We’re literally hiking right now. I wouldn’t be surprised if we had to use our hands at some point, there are some pretty big boulders and ditches.”

Chris looked ahead uncertainly. There certainly wasn’t any sort of path, and he’d already nearly tripped over an old, gnarled tree root that protruded suddenly from the dirt.

“What should we do? We can’t transfigure them, there’s too much stuff inside. I doubt even McGonagall would be able to get it all back when she reversed it.”

“We’ll know we’re about to hit company about five minutes in advance.” PJ considered. “We could just hide them and sit down like we’re having a break and wait for the muggles to pass.”

Dan nodded. “That works for out here, but not when we get closer. We’re going to look pretty funny if we just come striding out of the woods with pink and purple plastic suitcases.”

“We can aim for the road instead and walk down it till we hit the campsite from that direction?” Phil suggested.

“They’ll have a car park, surely. Where would we have put our car?” Dan held back a sigh. He was starting to regret not getting involved in the planning. They hadn’t got off to a very good start. Not to mention the fact that Chris was currently wearing his Arsenal shirt backwards.

“We hitchhiked?” Phil suggested.

Dan raised his palms in a shrug. “Why not? The Norwegian people seem pretty happy to let us do our thing.”

Chris nodded. “They’re very relaxed. My friend, the one we’re staying with on Friday, says they just don’t really care. As long as you’re not annoying them, you can pretty much just do your own thing. They’re very straight up, too. All the Scandinavians are. They say what they think. That’s why they’re all so successful and rich, they get stuff done. None of our British awkwardness faffing about and being desperately afraid of offending all the time. They’re chilled. He’s really funny, too. He’s got that completely deadpan-”

“Christopher,” PJ interrupted him. “If you fancy him this much why didn’t you visit earlier?”

Chris grinned, a little embarrassed. “I’m just saying. It’s cool seeing different cultures.”

“Yes, very nice dear.”

They hit the road sooner than they’d expected and felt pretty stupid as they wheeled their suitcases in single file down the side of the tarmac. After a few minutes, Chris suggested dipping back into the trees and following the road out of sight.

“I see what you mean about the suitcases. I hit one rock and tipped the whole thing over.” Chris called to Dan, concerned.

“It’s fine,” Dan said back. “We’re eccentric, British idiots. I’m sure they’ve seen worse.”

All around them was green. They were following a thin strip of forest now and could see the glistening lake through the trees, and a tiny slither of yellow beach. Every few minutes a car would set off PJ’s detection spell and they had to stop, as there was no way of knowing it was a car and not a party of walkers heading towards them. They ground was rough and the going slow, but the air felt impossibly clean and the scenery was undeniably beautiful.

Under foot was a springy layer of yellow-green moss and the occasional patch of peat which usually meant there was a boulder near, the stone warmed under the sun and the lichen that covered the surface thick enough that it was soft and pleasant to the touch.

They quickly learnt that the patches of bracken were to be walked around and not waded through. The stems were thick and unforgiving. While there were cars, many of them were hybrid or electric or just very expensive and so made little noise to disturb the tranquillity. A few birds sang lazily at the blue sky and, when it was really quiet, Dan could just about hear the water lapping gently on the shore.

“Jesus, Chris, you didn’t warn me about the mosquitos.” PJ complained suddenly. “I’m sure there’s a repellent spell. I would have looked it up.”

It wasn’t something Dan had noticed until PJ had pointed it out, but now he was waving his hands in front of his face as he walked in an attempt to waft them away. They had crept up so silently on the four boys.

“Do you think the muggles would notice if I conjured up a tornado?” PJ carried on, slapping his arm and wincing. He inspected his palm before wiping it disgustedly on his shorts.

“What do muggles do about them?” Chris asked Dan. He’d had a similar revelation, and was seeing the clouds of insects where previously there had been open space and green foliage.

“Mosquito repellent. It’s this cream stuff that smells bad, so they stay away.”

“So you just make yourself smell bad?” PJ asked, alarmed.

“It only smells bad to them. Well it’s not nice to us either, but it’s not that strong. You stop noticing it really quickly.”

“That’s really clever,” Chris frowned. “How do they figure something like that out?”

“Science.” Dan grinned.

Chris sighed. He’d heard a lot about muggle science since befriending the muggleborn, and it all sounded pretty far-fetched.

“Okay. Will we be able to buy it at the campsite?”

“I have no idea. We’re staying in a cabin, but it’s a campsite so there’s camping space too, right? Sounds like it’s probably pretty big. And there’s nowhere around here. There’s a good chance they sell food and have a little shop, so yeah, maybe.” Dan narrowly avoided a painful encounter with a spiky bush and fell into Phil.

“Just a couple of days of smelling bad. I can deal with that.” Chris grunted as he pulled himself over a boulder.

“Hold up,” PJ said, letting the cases fall with a gentle thud. “There are people ahead, but they’re not moving. I think we’re close. Let’s go back to the road.”

At the entrance to the campsite stood an old, wood and stone house that looked like something from a fairytale. Some of the wooden planks were their natural red colour while others had been painted yellow in a pattern that seemed random yet somehow made perfect sense. PJ climbed the steps to the quaint little porch while the other three looked through the trees at their home for the next two nights.

Nestled on the hillside, not too close together but not particularly far apart either, were a huddle of tiny, red log cabins raised off the ground on stilts. They had little square windows and round, stone chimneys and every one looked out onto the still, blue lake.

PJ bounded down the wooden steps jangling a set of keys. Dan couldn’t help but share his excitement. This was the type of holiday he never imagined actually having. He expected resorts with swimming pools and identical hotel bedrooms and a strip of restaurants and clubs that exclusively spoke English. Not a cabin in the woods with mountain climbing behind them and lake stretching in front of them. It was impossibly picturesque. The kind of place you’d find in a children’s picture book but never in the flesh.

Cabin four was the like all the others but just a little bit different. As they climbed the wooden stair to the decking at the front of the cabin, Phil turned suddenly to the lake and gasped.

From the direction they’d approached they hadn’t seen much of the lake once they hit the road, but almost directly in front of them the tarmac continued straight out across the mouth of the lake where it tucked itself into a fast flowing river. The bridge was a smooth, white curve that was incredibly graceful and, despite its steel and plastic structure, fitted perfectly into the view in front of them. Like the houses and churches and roads, it did not insult the scenery it cut through. It was meant to be there, and Dan doubted even the deer and moose and rabbits that roamed the forests took offense.

Inside, the living room was cosy and the kitchen verging towards cramped. It was lit by a yellow bulb inside a wooden bracket that filled the room with warm light. There were two bedrooms, each with bunk beds, and Chris raced ahead to claim top bunk.

“Because I get a window.” He explained with a grin.

The window was tiny and framed with floral, cotton curtains that couldn’t have looked more like they’d been lifted from a little old grandma’s cottage in the woods.

It was small, but Dan was sure he could spend weeks here without complaint. He’d been in the beautiful country only a few hours and already his chest hurt with the knowledge that, all too soon, he would have to leave. It was a bizarre sensation.

After dumping their bags, they set out immediately, giddy and chattering like children.

First, they followed the dirt track that led through the campsite to where the bank flattened out into a little beach. A child and a dog were splashing in the shallows of the lake, and paid little attention to the four teenagers. To their left were a handful of small boats tied to a wooden dock. Like so much of the country, they blended so well into the nature around them that they were invisible from most angles – shielded by tall rushes that swayed languidly in the afternoon breeze.

The water was very cold. It was glacial, collected here as it ran off the snow-capped mountains. Of course, these were boys used to swimming in the highlands of Scotland, and the temperature was not a factor that swayed them even slightly. Chris was underwater in about the time it had taken Dan to remove his shirt, and the collie dog got so excited by the sudden burst of activity that it bounded in and out of the lake like a yoyo, barking all around the boys.

An elderly man sitting on the deck of his cabin looked over the top of his newspaper, disapproving of the break in tranquillity, but none of the beings in the lake noticed.

Mountains circled the lake towering high into the blue sky. Trees covered the islands that brimmed over the still water here and there. Birds sung and the sinking sun painted everything with gold.

~

The light pine walls of the cabin reflected the morning light until, eventually, Phil stirred. Once the excitement of the bunk beds had worn off, Dan and Phil had regretfully agreed to share the lower bunk as it was wider and could easily accommodate two. Chris had shown no such agreeableness and stuck to his resolve, claiming the top bunk and leaving PJ to sleep alone below him and occasionally kick Chris’s mattress with is feet. He had awoken first due to the little window next to his head and had stared silently through the dusty glass for at least an hour before the others stirred.

The woods just felt right. It was perfect peace. The trees outside his window did not fear deforestation, they had surely stood for hundreds of years and grown tall into the sky. This, Chris thought, was how humans were supposed to live. It was impossible to be unhappy in somewhere so beautiful and calm. He was sure that he could strike out alone in any forest or any city without fear or even the tiniest inkling of stress. It was idyllic. It was perfect. It was nature and humanity existing in harmony with one another. It was a window smaller in area than his face, but Chris felt as though he would be satisfied to stare out of it forever.

They had no plans for the day and, after Dan had demonstrated the use of an electric oven to an awestruck audience, they struck out into the woods for a walk. There wasn’t any sort of definite path, but the trees were spaced out so that they could see a long way ahead and wander where they pleased.

PJ ducked down in the ditch behind where a tree had uprooted and glanced over his shoulder before pulling out his wand and pointing it at a cluster of yellow mushrooms growing in the shade.

“Don’t bother, they’re edible.” Phil said at a glance.

“You sure?” PJ asked.

“Well, you’ll be eating them first.”

PJ rolled his eyes, plucking a few of the biggest from the soil and slipping them into his pocket.

They walked without direction, striking out towards anything beautiful looking. It was beyond peaceful. All four of them were in their own separate bubbles of content, made all the better by the bigger, brighter bubble that encompassed them all with the warmth of good company. Every now and then they would stop and wait for Phil to catch up, the boy having become distracted by something small and green growing on the forest floor. PJ was mimicking birdcalls and Chris was running his fingertips over the rough bark of every tree he passed. Dan was having a moment.

Was it possible for someone to be allowed this much happiness? He doubted that there was any offer of riches or luxury or life changing experience that would make him want to be anywhere other than here in this little pocket of time. He was catching the birdcalls that bounced between PJ and the canopy and committing them hungrily to memory, drinking up every shade of green and splash of flowers and sparkle of blue lake that his eyes absorbed and breathing deep, happy lungfuls of the fresh air. He was watching quietly for deer and gasping gleefully at the young rabbits bounding suddenly from the undergrowth in front of them. He was smiling fondly at Phil and laughing at Chris and observing PJ with reverent awe. He was listening to a stream slipping through rushes and mud and then almost falling into it as he sought it out. He was alive and enthralled. He was seeing and breathing and smelling and being. He was smitten.

“This is the most beautiful country I’ve ever seen.” He said suddenly, and in that moment he knew the words were true.

PJ nodded thoughtfully. “There’s something about it. Even the bits that aren’t spectacular, like this. It’s the country itself that’s so cool.”

Phil almost walked into Dan, who had stopped to gaze upon another viewpoint of the sea lake through the trees. Every angle seemed more beautiful than the last, though they had barely moved a hundred metres.

“It’s just nice, isn’t it?” Phil said, most of his attention on the tiny purple flowers in his hand. “You don’t want to leave.”

“Are those flowers glowing?” Dan asked suddenly. It was difficult to tell in the daylight, but the delicate petals certainly had an aura about them.

Phil nodded. “Clever little things,” he explained. “Evil, really. They’re saprophytic, like most mushrooms and stuff – not really plants at all. They grow off the nutrients released by decaying, dead plants. You find them in really dark places, these were inside that fallen tree over there. The light allows plants to grow – and grow really well because if it wasn’t for the dark those places would be perfect, really rich soil you know? And these guys turn off their lights and let the plants die and harvest their remains, essentially. They like the really early stages of death. That’s why they do it.”

“That’s brutal.” PJ chuckled.

“How come muggles don’t find them? They’re literally glowing.” Dan asked with a frown.

“Defence mechanism.” Phil was speaking more to the flowers than to the boys. “They learned pretty quickly that most animals like pretty lights and will get curious and probably end up killing them, whether they deliberately pick them or just scuff about and pull them up. They have tiny root hairs that sense the vibrations in the ground. They turn off if something’s coming, but that’s not magic – it’s like those ferns that close up when it rains to protect themselves, but the actual mechanism is more like a venus flytrap. These guys are only lit now because I’m casting a shield charm around them.”

Dan considered internally. He had assumed, for whatever reason, that magical plants only grew in magical places. How else would the ministry explain to muggles all the bizarre things their gardens were doing to them? Just another example of his muggleborn ignorance, he supposed. Maybe he would ask Phil about it another time in private.

“Hey,” Phil said suddenly with a grin as PJ bent down to collect another cluster of the yellow mushrooms. “Why do toadstools grow so close together?”

Dan raised an eyebrow.

“They don’t need mushroom.”

Phil dissolved into giggles and PJ sighed sadly.

“Real funny, Phil. Have you considered a career in comedy?” Dan shook his head.

“I thought you’d take a lichen to that one.” Phil’s grin spread.

“What?” Chris said, confused, and Phil pointed at the yellow plant that grew over the surface of the boulders like moss.

“Lichen.” He explained.

Dan picked up a small rock and tested its weight in his palm. “I’ll be taking a lichen to your head in a minute.” He threatened.

“Permission granite.” Phil responded quickly, and Dan let out a yelp of frustration.

“That one’s so much worse. Like, it’s not even clever, it’s just painful.” He said helplessly.

Chris sniggered. “That’s how you know someone’s a Hufflepuff. Terrible, lame, excruciating puns. Then there’s you Slytherins with sarcasm so dark and dry it chafes on the way out of your throat.

“Ravenclaws are the sharp ones,” He carried on a little wistfully. “It’s even in their motto. Wit beyond measure, and all that.”

“While the Gryffindors just like to make a fool of themselves to be centre of attention.” PJ looked round amused. “Loud and obnoxious, that’s Gryffindor’s motto isn’t it?”

Chris rolled his eyes. “If that’s what I get from a compliment I promise I won’t be trying it again any time soon.”

“I’ve got more,” Phil chirped up. “What do you call a cow with three legs?”

Chris shrugged, bracing himself.

“Lean beef.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter surpassed 6k words (my chapter limit) and has been split into two - next part tomorrow!! as always pls keep commenting i wet myself every time i get a new notification


	23. Trolls and Tribulations

After the lakeside stay the four boys flew to Stavanger, this cabin much higher up the mountainside and with views to make a grown troll weak. The land was rougher here and they feasted on wild blueberries and PJ’s mushrooms. This part of the country had even more impressive fjords than the ones they had previously seen, and after a good night’s rest they set off to hike Priekenstolen, a famous muggle landmark. Pulpit rock was a flat plateau that stuck out the side of the mountain with a breath-taking, if nauseating, six-hundred metre sheer drop straight into the Lysefjord. It was however a gruelling two hour trek each way, for the place was swarming with far too many muggles for them to just pop up in a bush near the top. The downwards return journey ruined their knees and they crashed the second they got home in one undignified pile on the sofa.

Dan had done a little bit of walking with his parents when he was younger, and so was holding up the best, but even he was massaging his aching thighs, his heavy lids shut tight.

“I think I’m dying.” Chris broke the weary silence cheerfully.

“Fingers crossed.” PJ yawned.

“It’s embarrassing really,” Phil said, the effort audible in his voice as he mustered the energy to speak. “Wizards are always in terrible shape. Our main sport is played sitting down for Christ’s sake. There’s no need to do much walking when you can apparate or use the floo network or whatever.”

“Yeah, that’s something I always wondered,” Dan said, removing PJ’s elbow from between his fourth and fifth rib. “I’ve not seen many bigger wizards, considering.”

“There are potions you can take,” PJ mumbled. “And you can do stuff to the food. Make it taste nice but not be all that bad for you.”

“But that doesn’t make you fit.” Dan clarified.

PJ shook his head. “I knew a guy who went to a muggle gym. People laughed at him, but the girls didn’t.”

“Any muggle school would have a gym, and boarding schools would have really good ones.” Dan, who had recovered his breath and was feeling mostly okay besides the aches and tiredness, was observing the other three with a smirk.

“We’re lazy. We can just use magic. Too heavy to lift? Not a problem. Too far to walk? Don’t have to.” PJ yawned widely. “It’s in our nature. I doubt it’ll ever change.”

“I think we should campaign for a gym at Hogwarts.” Dan announced.

No one paid any attention to him, as in one, exhausted motion they had all fallen asleep. Ruefully, Dan rested his head on Phil’s shoulder and joined them.

~

The activity Dan and Chris were most excited for had been saved for the second to last day. While not in use, Norway’s national Quidditch grounds were opened to the public. But these were no muddy fields with metal hoops at either end. This was a huge fjord, the typical U-shape carved out of the rock by a retreating glacier and flooded with sea water. It was concealed on all sides by towering mountains and unapproachable by muggles. The game was played above the still water, with markings drawn out in water plants and a repulsion charm to save dropped quaffles from drowning.

There were many sets of goalposts. The main set were next to the sheer slope of a mountain where spectator stands had been hewn into the rock itself. All across the fjord were pitches of various sizes with enchanted, floating hoops as goalposts. Where the lake narrowed out into its feeding river there was a long, sparkling racetrack. But Chris and Dan would get their fill in due course, now they had a different destination.

Their belongings safely stowed in the cosy inn on the beach, the four boys streaked across the lake and dived straight into the water at the base of the mountain where a sign had been painted onto the Palaeozoic rock. After a few seconds of blisteringly cold water, they curved back up and broke the surface inside a dimly lit cave. Immediately, they were dry and warm again thanks to a charm cast just above the water. They followed the cut of the cave heading towards a faint purple glow.

Dan had been wanting to visit crystal caves ever since he had read about them in The Lord of the Rings. He was not disappointed.

The purple light was cast by little floating lanterns, the crystals themselves were white. The further into the cave they travelled, the more colourful the lights became until they spanned the whole spectrum in gentle hues of soft light. The boys were the only people in the caves at this moment and they flew slowly, carefully avoiding the projectiles of sparkling rock that reached their long fingers across the cavern.

In one crevice the crystals looked like clouds, round and bubbling, while in another they were razor sharp shards of ice. Dan was sure there was some science behind it, but he didn’t have anything to offer the wizard boys.

Even the classic stalagmites looked beautiful when illuminated this way. No one had spoken since they’d first plunged below the water’s surface. It was quiet, muffled and perhaps a little eerie but not unpleasantly so. It was a similar feeling, Dan noted, to entering a church, although he had never been religious. The grotto commanded a quiet, reverent respect. It was something so secret and special and unearthly, and yet it had allowed them entrance. It was so different to the world around it. Had it not been for the sign and its reputation, Dan would never have even imagined it to be there beneath that mountain.

They alighted on a plateau of rock to get a closer view of the crystals. They still hadn’t spoken, and Phil took Dan’s hand. While Chris and PJ crawled on their hands and knees admiring the glass-like structures, Dan and Phil remained where they were, looking out into the cave.

“I think we should get married here.” Phil broke the silence, and Dan laughed in surprise at the noise.

“We wouldn’t fit many guests in.” Dan hypothesised.

“Good. I really do have a lot of aunts.”

“I’m quite happy not meeting them just yet.” Dan chuckled.

“One of them has green hair.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“She keeps snakes in it.”

“I like snakes.”

“They’re poisonous and they bite anyone other than her. She doesn’t much like people.”

Dan laughed. “God. Muggle families can be scandalous enough, you really don’t need to throw magic into the equation.”

Phil squeezed Dan’s hand. “How does this holiday compare to muggle ones?”

Dan considered for a moment. “It’s so much better, but that’s not really because of the magic. It’s because I’m with friends and we can go wherever we want. That’s the only extra thing magic helped with. Apparition is really quite useful. But the best thing about it is you guys.”

“But you have fun with your parents too, right?”

“Of course, but I haven’t been on holiday since I was like, nine. And we just went camping. We didn’t see any incredible new country or anything. We were just spending time together.” Dan smiled fondly at the memories of campfire tales and far too many marshmallows and when it had rained for two days straight and they’d had to stay inside all day playing endless games of ludo and driving each other crazy.

 “I guess we are pretty lucky that it doesn’t cost much to travel. If you wanted you could just apparate anywhere. Like, go as far as you can and then stop and chill for a bit and go again.” Phil pondered.

“No, Phil, there’s a lot of sea in the way. Even the most powerful wizards probably couldn’t manage the whole Atlantic in one go.”

“Alright, well you take a rubber ring with you.”

Dan laughed, laying his head on Phil’s shoulder. “I love you, by the way. I haven’t said it in a while and I just wanted to make sure you hadn’t forgotten.”

Phil’s cheeks lifted into a wide, pink smile. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

~

The inn had a muggle phone connection and the three purebloods practically wet themselves as Dan called home to belatedly let his mum know he’d arrived safe.

“Luna’s pining for you. For a cat that can disappear for days on end without so much as a note, she sure does kick up a fuss when you take a holiday. And there’s some post for you.”

Dan frowned. “Is everything ok?” He asked his mum. “You sound upset.”

“Really? No, everything’s fine. Just a bit stressed with work. I’m tired, that’s all.”

“It’s a Saturday. You shouldn’t be doing any work on a Saturday.” Dan scolded.

“Welcome to the real world, sweetheart.”

Dan could hear his own sarcasm in his mother’s voice and he smiled. “Don’t worry. I’m going to get really rich really soon and then you can retire.”

“I’ve seen your money,” his mum laughed. “Can you imagine me plonking dirty great slabs of gold down on the counter at Tesco?”

“We do have exchange places, mum. We’re not completely uncivilised.”

“There you go again. Us and you. We’re all humans, aren’t we?”

Dan felt the familiar twist of guilt in his stomach. It was so normal for him to separate the worlds of wizards and muggles, for they had to be separate in order to coexist; but where the lines greyed this didn’t seem like such an elegant solution.

“You’re my son,” Dan’s mum carried on quietly. “I know you’re different, but you’re still my boy. It hurts when you talk to me like I’m a different species.”

A part of Dan wanted to scream _but you are_ , but he knew that wasn’t really true. His mother had carried him and given birth to him, the reason for the difference wasn’t his magical ability. He was as human as anyone else. It was the separation of the communities so long ago that had caused them to evolve independently or, in the case of the wizarding world, not at all. They still used quills and ink, for Christ’s sake. They were different worlds. And Dan had lives in both.

After showering and changing into shorts, the boys took to the skies. It was a bit chaotic with so many brooms in the air. A whole school trip from Mahoutokoro had commandeered two pitches and one of the younger students nearly crashed into Dan after being knocked wheeling off course by a bludger. She yelled what Dan assumed was an apology before diving straight back into the action. The hardcore of their players were all wearing Japan’s national team’s white and red robes, bearing their emblem: a white circle with a green outer rim, inside of which a red dragon roared with its claw upon a Quaffle.

“I went to Japan for a World Cup game with my dad when I was little,” Chris informed the boys as they searched for a game to join. “It’s really beautiful. It’s next to a massive Sengoku-era castle and there’s sakura trees all around, you know the pink cherry blossom? We were in these gorgeous pagoda towers and it’s like here, the pitch is over a koi pond instead of grass. I don’t know why everyone doesn’t do it. The reflections in the water of the players and stuff.”

“It’s because back in England it’s usually too cloudy,” PJ laughed. “Water is clear. It’s only blue when it reflects the colour of the sky, it would just like we were playing over a muddy puddle.”

“Yeah,” Chris said ruefully. “England’s pretty rubbish.”

They found a German group playing Stitchstock and watched for a while. Dan had read about the game, one of the early originators of Quidditch, but never seen it played. It seemed fun to play but there wasn’t enough going on to make it a good spectator sport.

Some Norwegian locals, all blonde and beautiful, invited them into their game which had all together far too many players. Dan was fighting eight others for the exhausted snitch while the fourteen bludgers that had been introduced ‘for a laugh’ rocketed calamitously around the pitch. Phil was mostly to be found flying in completely the wrong direction, focusing more on avoiding injury than scoring any points, while Chris gleefully took the bludgers head on in his quest for victory.

Many broken bones and a concussion later the mixture of teens and young adults finally called it quits and headed back to the inn. The sun was setting artistically against the blue water, which was now taking on shades of purple as the cold night drew in. Inside, the atmosphere was lively. Even those who weren’t staying the night had stopped for a drink before heading home, and the result was a boisterous, overwarm cacophony of wizards from all over the world.

PJ was garbling away fluently in Italian to a group of dark haired girls and after a few minutes of nodding along politely Chris left them dejectedly to experience some Norwegian ale. Dan and Phil had joined three Americans broomstick-backpacking across Europe for the summer. They were in their final year at Ilvermorny, North America’s largest school of magic.

“We’re staying a few more days here and then we’re heading over to the UK,” Oliva told them enthusiastically. She had dusty brown hair and a generous smattering of freckles across the centre of her face. Her eyes were large and hazel and warm, and her smile friendly. “They say that Hogwarts is one of the easiest to find. So many schools are so secretive, you know? We spent ages trying to find Beauxbatons, it’s supposed to be really beautiful, but no one would help us. Half the people we met went there but just refused point blank. I think that’s stupid, you know? Travelling is so good for you. Opening your mind to different cultures and stuff. I’ve read about the palace, like they’re happy to boast about its grandeur and stuff but they won’t actually show anyone. It’s stupid.”

Ava was very small but had a lot of flame red hair and she nodded in agreement. “Do you think we’ll find Hogwarts?” She asked.

“I’ve no idea,” Phil admitted. “I’m not sure what enchantments it has. But you can walk there from Hogsmeade so I don’t see why not.”

“Hogsmeade’s the only all wizarding village in the UK, right?” Ava asked. “Yeah, that’s what we were planning to do. We’re going to London first but then we’ll probably see Hogsmeade.”

Jade, almost as small as Ava but with a quieter nature and dark hair and skin, pulled out a much loved wizarding travel guide. “This is out of date. But it looks like you can just walk round the Black Lake and it’s there?”

Dan looked at the map and nodded. The castle wasn’t shown, but there was a very suspicious looking blank space. “You won’t be able to go in, but you can see the tops of the towers from anywhere around here.”

“It’s not all that big compared to a lot of the other great magic schools.” Ava said.

Phil shook his head. “About a thousand students. Two-hundred in each year, then those are split into four houses.”

“We have houses too. Is it true Hogwarts has a secret chamber built by one of the founders and he put a Basilisk in there?” Olivia asked curiously.

“Yeah, we don’t talk about that,” Phil said sheepishly. “Bit embarrassing really. Only one person died though. It’s all sorted now. No harm done.”

“Someone died?!”

“Oops.”

~

On the last day Dan saw his first dragon. A Norwegian ridgeback, flying high above them. It took no notice of the boys, but its might was palpable even from this distance. The black shape outlined against the sun was enough to send a shiver of fear down Dan’s spine, while Chris whooped with excitement.

“That was so cool! You know how cool that was?” He enthused. “We saw a wild dragon. A wild one! There are so few in countries with widespread population. They’re tracked by wizards to make sure they’re not spotted. It’s a lot of work.”

“Are there places where they’re not tracked?” Dan asked, alarmed.

“Sure, anywhere where there aren’t muggles in their territory.” Chris expounded. “Cos they can fly, obviously, that’s a pretty big area and not many countries have that much empty space. Russia has a thriving dragon population, but it’ll never get out of hand because the places people don’t want to live animals don’t want to live in either, and dragons need food. Romania has a research centre and Hungary is supposed to be pretty teeming.”

“Are there any in England?”

“Of course there are you egg,” Chris laughed. “Where do you think we get all the potions ingredients from?”

Now he thought about it, that was a pretty stupid question. He’d definitely read something in _The Daily Prophet_ once about a worrying increase in muggle dragon sightings after ministry cuts to the department.

“My first dragon was a Hebridean black,” Chris carried on, although no one had asked. “That and the Welsh Green are native to Britain, but we have a lot of imports. There’s so much money in dragons. Most of the trade is illegal obviously.”

Dan tuned out much of Chris’s rambling as they passed over the largest city they’d seen since arriving. They had been flying around any extensive muggle dwellings, but doing that over Drammen would have added a good forty minutes to their journey. Consequently they were flying much higher to avoid being seen, and Dan’s fingers were going numb. Here and there the cloud was thin enough beneath them to catch glimpses of the sprawling suburbia, but mostly they were alone in the damp whiteness. To their left, it was raining. The light was distorted by the falling water and created straight, yellow rays that stopped clearly at either end of the raincloud. It also may have been a contributing factor in their decision not to go that way. They were heading for Oslo, Norway’s capital and home to one of the most famous wizarding highstreets in the world.

 Considering its small population, Norway had a very large wizarding community. Chris had tried to persuade the four to visit Svalbard as he and his friends had convinced themselves that the magical school Durmstrang was located there, but it was far too North for them to do in one holiday. And besides, there really was a lot of ice and not a lot of anything else. They would have had to pack two completely separate wardrobes to stay warm on the ice fields and not sweat out in the balmy forests of the South.

Fortryllende Banen, the enchanted path, was found by slipping through an invisible door in the back of a large statue of a troll. The Norwegians certainly had a thing about trolls, they brought them to international quidditch matches as their national animal and the boys had flown over at least four different towns and villages named after them. Once inside the statue they followed a tiny, winding stair lit by flaming brackets and filled with strange, metallic music that seemed to be coming from the walls. The stair climbed up again and they were standing in a long, wide, and colourful street.

It smelled like a bakery; that was the first thing Dan noticed. Somewhere, someone was cooking pastries that Dan could almost taste as he breathed in the sweet air. Directly in front of them was a massive, stone built bookshop and opposite it stood a tavern that sounded very lively for a Sunday afternoon. There was a herbalist next to a pet shop and a tiny apothecary with so many oddbits dangling from the ceiling that it looked as if you might have to crawl to avoid knocking anything over.

They stopped at a quill shop looking for souvenirs and then at the menagerie to admire some colourful lizards that had caught PJ’s eye. But Norway was not famous for its quills nor even the wand makers’ adjacent, though it was impressive as the country held many magical forests with rare species of wand tree. And the end of the long, twisting street was Alchemist’s Corner – the largest collection of alchemical learning outside of the Egyptian Centre for Alchemical Studies (Africa widely regarded as the homeland of the practise). It was a strange and deeply hypothetical branch of magic, offered as an optional course to sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts. None of the three sixth years had taken it, nevertheless they were fascinated by the peculiar magic and eager to browse the dusty shops and library.

It was confusing and fascinating and impossible to make any sense of. It felt old and very separate from the methods of magic they knew. It was philosophical and conjectural metaphysical and it seemed that many generations of alchemists would dedicate their life’s work to trying to do something and never actually succeed. The whole place made Dan feel very inferior. PJ was studying a display on Panacea, a remedy that supposedly would cure all diseases and prolong life indefinitely, while Chris was turning a technical looking instrument over in his hands (Dan suspected he was trying to figure out which way up it went).  Phil was reading something, and Dan was staring blankly at it all hoping that they were just pretending to understand what any of it meant.

The three boys were usually very good at squashing the ae gap between them and Dan, but outside of school it became a lot more apparent when they could do magic and he could not. They’d explored a cave system with Chris’s friend Arne and it had been half an hour before anyone thought to light a branch and give it to Dan so that he could have his own torch rather than stumbling along blindly trying to keep up with them and nearly falling into a huge chasm in the ground. When they’d wandered into a particularly foul smelling patch of bog they’d all performed the bubble head charm on themselves while Dan had choked on the stench and tried not to vomit. And then, in the evenings when they were sat around the fire making shapes in the sparks and casting shadows on the walls, Dan could only watch.

Now, he watched on as PJ picked a smooth metal ball and muttered some enchantment he’d just read. The ball shivered and became wooden. PJ’s face lit up and he turned to show Dan, and it took a minute for Dan to find a smile to drag across his face.

Chris too was giving alchemy a try and had sent one of the silver instruments whizzing into life. Across the room, Phil was dipping his fingers in what had been a cauldron of molten gold but now appeared to be more like a fine, gold mist. In cruel juxtaposition, Dan was watching a security troll pick its nose. It was stood guard in front of a bead curtain at the back of the shop that lead into another room, presumably holding far more valuable or dangerous alchemical equipment.

Time had slipped away all too easily in Alchemist’s Corner, and they left in a hurry when they realised they had little over an hour until they had to catch their portkey from the travel centre. It would be a whistle-stop tour of the rest of the street, with panic purchases to bring home to friends and family.

While many books and signs translated themselves automatically for the reader, the shopkeepers did not and PJ had a moment of terror when he tried to buy a very expensive fortune-telling crystal and was handed the whole bag, but after a lot of hand gestures and frightened yelps it transpired that the crystal vendor was just trying to make him pick one out. He also bought a huge bag full of various sweets for his siblings and Phil bought some dog treats that would allow his dogs to jump ten feet into the air (for a limited duration only, the shop assistant promised). Chris bought some Norwegian pine wood polish for his broom as well as a little animated model of a troll that would guard his possessions and bite the fingers of anyone trying to get near them, while Dan spent nearly all his money on a small scale model of a Fjord that was enchanted to be its own fully functioning ecosystem. Water evaporated off the glistening lake and formed tiny snow clouds at the top of the mountains, and the trees swayed in an imaginary breeze. The model included all four seasons and even the occasional storm, and Phil was sure he had seen a tiny dolphin leap out of the water near the base of the tallest mountain. Dan’s parents would be amazed, although they might have some trouble explaining it to guests if they were to put it on the mantel.

Upon leaving the model shop they were nearly run over by a very small witch riding a very large moose, and hurried to find the transport centre in the now rapidly darkening dusk. Phil caused a brief delay by eating a funny yellow sweet Chris had offered him and sprouting antlers, but they made it with time enough to bid one final farewell to the huge painting on the wall depicting a vista-like map of the country.

England was overcast. Chris and PJ went straight home with a tired hug goodbye and a promise to visit soon, while Phil took Dan’s hand and, with a loud crack, disapparated.

Dan’s mum was waiting for them and flashed Dan a relieved smile when she took in all his limbs in all the right places. Dan always felt a bit embarrassed of his little terraced townhouse after visiting his friends’ sprawling magical abodes, but today he was glad to be home. Dan’s mum almost cracked his ribs with her hug before turning to Phil to give him the same treatment.

“Well?” She asked, ushering them through to the kitchen and snapping the kettle on. “How was it?”

“It was so, so beautiful,” Dan gushed. “I’m taking you there as soon as I’m of age. It’s unreal. It’s like something out of a Disney movie.”

His mum smiled. “Your dad and I are very jealous. We’ll hold you to that. We expect to be taken all over the world by luxury broomstick, or whatever you use.

“And thank you for looking after him, Phil love. It was so kind of you boys to take him along with you.”

“Oh shut up, mum,” Dan said, his cheeks reddening. “I’m only one year younger than them.”

“Yes, but that makes you no different to me outside of a school. You’re like a piece of luggage they have to carry around with them.”

“Thanks.”

Phil laughed. “He wasn’t that much of a burden, don’t worry. And we only really use magic when we’re in a wizarding area. Dan was actually pretty useful. Would have been better if he’d spoken Norwegian, but we did need him for booking into muggle campsites and stuff.”

“He’ll be more useful next year when he can do that as well as, I don’t know, levitating mushrooms or whatever it is you do.” Dan’s mum ruffled his hair annoyingly.

“Well, I can’t argue with that.” Phil smiled politely and Dan could tell he was itching to go home to tell his own family about their adventures before crawling into bed. They chugged their tea quickly and bid each other farewell, and Dan collapsed exhausted onto the sofa with a contented sigh.

His mum remained standing. She was turning her keys over and over in her hands and she jumped when she heard Dan’s dad coming down the stairs.

“Dan,” she began, and then paused.

“What’s up?” Dan asked, his chest tight.

“While you were away-”

Dan’s dad joined them in the cramped living room and bent down to give Dan a brisk hug. He straightened up and moved over to put an arm around Dan’s mum.

“While you were away, we got a letter from one of your teachers at school.” Dan’s mum continued quietly. This was a speech she had prepared and practised in advance. “There’s something we need to tell you. It’s so long overdue, and we’re so sorry.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so as you might have guessed from my outpouring of love, i went to norway last summer and absolutely fell in love with it (i actually went with my danish friend awesomesockes who i met through phanfiction so if anyone ever tells you internet friendships aren’t real you can put out their eyes with a glacier)
> 
> anyway some of the places i wrote about are places we went/stayed so if you’re interested here are some pictures of them init http://parttimestoryteller.tumblr.com/post/141852039660  
> p.s. sorry it got so rushed and awful at the end it was getting so long and i just wanted it to be over lmao


	24. The Pureblood

Dan was adopted. It had taken his mother but one concise sentence to explain. They found out they couldn’t have children and had searched long and hard to find a child young enough to truly raise as their own. Dan had been two years old and they had fallen in love immediately.

Dan’s mum cradled him to her chest. She was shaking. He couldn’t see from this angle if the trembles were tears, but she wasn’t sobbing.

He was motionless. He felt as if he had frozen. There was one question rocketing around the inside of his head and bouncing deafeningly off the walls of his skull: _what does this mean_? What did it mean for his future? Would it change the way he felt about his parents, if only subtly? _Who really was he?_

“My real- my biological parents?” He finally asked. His voice sounded like it was coming from the other side of the room.

Dan’s dad, who had been pacing, finally sat down on his other side. “Social services told us that they had died in a car crash. It was a head on collision. You were in the back without a scratch. We often wondered if your magic might have helped you. Protected you from the debris and stuff. You know how we got all those books for muggle parents when we first went to Diagon Alley?”

Dan nodded.

“There was all sorts of stuff about dangerous situations being the first indicators of magic,” Dan’s dad carried on. “I assume you’re going to ask if your parents were wizards. We don’t know. I’m sorry. They had no information about them at all and none of the people we spoke to knew why, which would maybe suggest they were, but the books we read did mention that your ministry had a form of child services if we ever needed it. We thought it unlikely that they would dump a magical baby in an orphanage and not give any kind of warning to the parents who adopted it. But you know them better than us.”

Dan found his words again. “I had a friend who was adopted. He was looked after by the ministry department until some witches wanted to adopt him. But I guess we don’t keep track of everyone, if they died in a muggle place the ministry wouldn’t have known. But, there was no other family?”

Dan’s dad exchanged a look with his mum.

“No relatives that could take you in. At least, none that they could find.”

“And?”

“What?”

“There’s something else. Don’t treat me like a child. Just spit it out, ok? It’s ok. I’m ok.” Dan’s skin felt impossibly tight across his ribcage. There was a silence he wanted to tear through with his fingers.

“What is it?” He asked again, his voice high pitched.

“You have a brother.” His mum whispered, her voice faint.

The penny dropping like a boulder in the ocean.

“I have a brother and you didn’t tell me?!” Dan exploded. “No way. That’s not fair. That’s not fair.” His chest was being crushed like a ton of marble had been dropped on it, while at the same time everything inside was swelling exponentially trying to burst out. “I’ve had a brother my whole life and you didn’t tell me because you didn’t want me to know I was adopted?! How? Why? That’s not fair!” He was shaking now too, whether it was rage or distress he wasn’t sure.

“The couple who adopted him made us swear we wouldn’t!” Now, Dan’s mum was crying. “He was a lot older. They didn’t think he’d accept them as his parents if you two were hanging around and backing each other up. And they convinced us, we were so worried, you have to understand.” Her whole body was convulsing with choking, hiccupping sobs and Dan clung to her instinctively. “We were weak and selfish and so scared that you wouldn’t love us. Because he remembered your parents, he could tell you about them. To him they will always be his real parents, but with you we had a chance. I’m so sorry. You don’t have to forgive us.”

She gathered herself briefly. “We agreed that we’d tell you as soon as we thought you were ready, but if not then age ten. No later.” She was forcing her words out between the ugly sobs and Dan’s dad was reaching round Dan’s back to rub her shoulder. His own eyes were sparkling with moisture and he was very still and very quiet. “But things got in the way,” she continued, her voice barely a whisper. “And then suddenly you had your Hogwarts letter. That was so much for you to take in, we couldn’t throw something else on top of that. You needed our support, as your parents. You needed to feel secure because you were going through such changes, you know?

“And then we barely saw you. We couldn’t tell you by letter, but when you were home we wanted every minute spent together to be a happy one.

“And then, after that, we had to pull you out of school. We’d already let you down so much. Then you were back and unhappy and then, in contrast, you were suddenly so happy that we couldn’t bear it. We didn’t want to ruin your glory days. We’d never seen you so happy. We were making excuses.”

“McGonagall wrote to you?” Dan asked quietly.

Dan’s father nodded.

“That means they were probably wizards.” Dan said. His tone was emotionless. He didn’t know how he felt. It hadn’t even begun to sink in, and for now he didn’t really feel anything.

“We know,” Dan’s dad said slowly, “But not for definite. Your professor said that she hadn’t looked into it any further than their school records, and would not do anything else unless you asked her to. In case you didn’t want to know. But there was no reason for her to know you were adopted if they weren’t.”

“They were. That’s why she wrote. I asked her a question, and she said she thought she knew the answer. She wouldn’t have told you to tell me unless it had been the answer.” Dan felt suddenly very cold and pulled both his parents closer.

“What question?” His dad asked.

“It’s, okay well I told you I’m in Slytherin house yeah? Well, the founder of that house was, racist I guess.” Dan was speaking slowly as he tried to formulate sentences. “He believed that true magic was passed down through generations of magical families. That it couldn’t come from muggles, not really good proper magic at least. So there’s this, um, spell that decides what house you’re in – it’s not a person – and it put me in Slytherin. But that didn’t add up because he, the racist guy, would never have picked a muggleborn for his house. Does that make sense?”

“I guess so,” his dad said with a sniff. “Christ. I can’t believe we didn’t tell you earlier. What kind of people are we?”

“You’re my parents.” Dan said simply.

His mum wailed suddenly like a banshee and it took Dan and his dad a good five minutes to calm her down.

“I mean it, though,” Dan said, his voice muffled as his mum cradled him again. “You’re my parents. This is just like, god I really don’t know, finding out that I was kidnapped when I was younger and taken on some wild adventure and now I have to decide if I’m going to find out what happened and stuff. Your parents are whoever love you and raise you and whoever you turn to when you need someone. That’s you. It always will be. Not even a question about it, you’re not my adoptive parents or my legal guardians or whatever you’re my actual real life parents and I love you so much even if you were procrastinating idiots about telling me this.”

His mum sobbed by way of an answer. Then she spoke. “Don’t say that yet. Not yet. Wait until you know everything and we’ve found out everything. We were so selfish, Dan. We wanted a child so bad.”

“How old is my brother?” Dan asked. What did she mean?

“He was ten when we met him.” Dan’s dad said softly.

“What’s his name?”

“Jack.”

The word hurt more than it should have. Dan had a brother called Jack, a living, breathing brother somewhere in the world who was suddenly and abruptly the only flesh and bone relation Dan had.

“He’ll know about my parents.”

Dan’s mum shivered violently, but his dad nodded. “I know. But the people who adopted him wouldn’t give us their contact details. They knew you’d want to find them, to find Jack. And they knew he’d want to find you.” His voice was very calm and it scared Dan.

“We had to pull you from his arms. He was screaming.” Dan’s dad carried on, his skin very pale and his lip starting to tremble. “They, his adoptive parents, told him he wouldn’t see you again ever. They said it was the only way you’d be happy, that he had to let you go, but he didn’t share that view. You were all he had. His parents had just died. We have never forgiven ourselves. They wouldn’t even tell us their names, but maybe we could have found them if we’d looked. We didn’t look. To do that we’d have to accept what we’d done.

“To understand this fully, you have to know that they had made it clear that they were taking Jack and they would not let him find you. That was unnegotiable. Regardless of what we did they were going to rip him from you. It seemed then, it that moment, that it really was the kindest thing to raise you not knowing. Because until you both were older you probably wouldn’t be able to find each other.”

“They could have adopted us both.” Dan said, and it was now his turn to be still.

“We’d got there first. We were on the list for a toddler or younger.” His mum’s eyes were closed as she spoke.

“Well, you could have taken him too.”

“We hadn’t applied for an older child. They had.”

“But social services won’t split up siblings if they have a choice.”

When no one replied, Dan spoke again.

“I would have known from the start if I’d had him. I wouldn’t have been yours.”

“It wasn’t just that,” his mum wailed. “They wanted him so bad. It was so easy to be selfish. We could almost convince ourselves it was the right thing to do. We didn’t really have the money for two children, it was the best way to give you both a good life and it would make them happy too.”

Dan kneaded his eye sockets. He had been overwhelmed by just one sentence of information, but it had just kept coming.

“So you could have let them have me too and waited for someone else.” Dan’s voice was very strained.

“They, we,” Dan’s mum took a deep breath. “They were strange. Uptight. Uncaring, or at least, to us. We’d already met you by that point. You were so sweet and beautiful. And they weren’t. We couldn’t. We couldn’t.”

Another silence. The longest yet. Dan didn’t particularly want to break it, but his parents were waiting.

“I don’t hate you.” He said finally. “I love you and it might not have been such a bad thing that you waited so long, because I am old enough to just about understand why you did it even if I can’t be selfless enough to accept it as right. Not just yet, at least. I know why you waited. I’m really tired. Is there anything for dinner? I’m going to have a bath and go to bed and not do any thinking until tomorrow.”

~

There was something that didn’t add up. No, there were several things. While a magical baby could feasibly end up in a muggle orphanage, his ten year old brother could not. If his parents had been wizards, Jack would have been brought up in the wizarding world. He would never have let muggles adopt him. Not least because he wouldn’t have known the muggle world and social services would have surely taken him to a psychiatrist for spouting rubbish about magic and flying broomsticks and dragons. Not least because he would have gone to Hogwarts the next year.

It winded Dan like a blow to the stomach. If Jack was a wizard, he would have left Hogwarts the year Dan joined. How must that have felt? How could Jack bear knowing his wizard brother was growing up unaware of the existence of magic or even his parents and brother? More and more Dan was wondering if he was indeed muggleborn after all, and that his muggle brother was living somewhere in the muggle world with his adoptive parents.

But why was he put in Slytherin? And why did McGonagall think his question would be answered by the knowledge that he was adopted?

His bed was the most uncomfortable thing he had ever tried to sleep in. He rolled over and over, his hair sticking to his scalp. He’d really been lying to himself if he’d thought he’d be able to forget about it and just slip into blissful unconsciousness for a while.

Presumably, his parents had had a house and some possessions and some money. Where was that? How had none of that been found and sorted out and left to Dan and Jack? Why was their death so anonymous? Did their friends and family ever find out what had happened to them and their two sons? What if they’d had a dog who had starved to death locked in the house waiting for them to come home?

Dan’s brain was whizzing around a racetrack without following a course, instead flying off in random directions as thought after thought stuck another tiny dagger into his skull. Perhaps that’s why Jack’s parents had been so keen to adopt him, perhaps they wanted the house and the money and had conned Dan’s own parents out of it after realising how blinded they were by their love and need for a baby.

Every theory was wilder than the last. What if one of his parents was a squib, presumably with some Slytherin and pureblood family, and had lied to the other and lived as a muggle? How did Slytherin feel about squibs? Dan wasn’t sure, but he certainly didn’t seem like the most tolerant and accepting of blokes. Love, then. Perhaps one of his parents was indeed magical but had fallen so in love with the other that they’d abandoned the wizarding world and concealed their abilities. That wasn’t unheard of. And that would mean Jack was most likely a wizard. That he’d gone to Hogwarts knowing that he was only a year away from finding his little brother.

The thought made Dan’s chest ache. He had been the luckier of the two in blissful ignorance. Whatever the truth, Jack knew about Dan and what’s more he knew that Dan may never find out about him.

Suddenly, Dan recalled the phone call he’d made home from the Quidditch grounds. His mother had been upset, she’d known she’d be telling Dan when he got home, but hadn’t she said something else? _There’s some post for you_. Dan had assumed it would be his book list from the school, but now he thought about it that usually came much later. And McGonagall had said that she would write to him.

Dan leapt out of bed, shrugging on his dressing gown and tiptoeing past his parent’s door (avoiding the squeaky floorboard). It was impossible to tread quietly down the stairs however but he gave it a good shot and fumbled for the light in the hallway.

There was a letter in the little wooden stand by the phone. The envelope was thick and cream-coloured and Dan recognised the corner of the wax seal just visible above the carved elephant that held it in place. Dan’s parents must have forgotten to remind him about it.

He tore the envelope open with fingers trembling so violently they threatened to tear the letter inside as well. Opening out the parchment, he sat on the bottom step to read, his heart pounding loudly in his chest.

 

_Dear Mr. Howell,_

_I hope you will forgive me for writing to your parents before you, but after speaking to them on the telephone they have informed me that you are holidaying in Scandinavia so will not find out until the reading of this letter._

_Your parents have similarly assured me that they will have spoken to you themselves by this point. Therefore, I am writing mainly to inform you of the process I carried out in order to answer the question you approached me with during your fourth year practical examination. As I’m sure you are aware, we examine the circumstances of students applying for financial aid in order to clarify that they are indeed in need of our assistance to continue their studies and that the claim is not fraudulent. I dealt with elements of your claim directly, hence my belief that I may be have been able to answer your question immediately, but opted to ensure that I was correct before doing so._

_I am aware of the delicate nature of your situation. In many cases happiness can be found in ignorance, therefore I sought only to directly answer your question. Similarly, my correspondence with your parents was limited to informing them that you had asked a question I couldn’t answer without informing you that you were adopted, and consequently recommending to them that it may be time to impart this knowledge. I did not tell them the information that follows._

_You asked why the sorting hat had placed a muggleborn in Slytherin. In response, I checked our blood status records and can confirm that you are recorded as pureblood._

_I hope this satisfies your qualms towards your suitability for the house, but I am aware I have raised far more questions than I have answered. I would advise you to think very carefully before perusing this any further. It is a very personal decision that may vastly impact upon your life as you have known it, and it is not one that should be taken lightly. However, if there is anything I can assist you with please do not hesitate to contact me._

_I hope this letter finds you well and look forward to joining you again in your academic journey in September._

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_


End file.
